Convergent Dreams
by trascendenza
Summary: An AU story of the movie starting just as Kal El is leaving for Krypton and Richard's life is changing. Diverges from the movie plotline very early in the story. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1: Places

**Author**'**s Note:** This series is being written based on the prompts of the LiveJournal community **fanfic100**. So every subheading in these chapters will be a prompt from the challenge. There are **100 word prompts** and the fics I write based on the prompts must be 100 words long. I'm going to attempt to write every chapter using a number of the prompts.

Now when I say AU of _Superman Returns_, I do mean AU. I will be changing things in the canon to fit my storyline, which is still in development, but the one thing I do know is that it will not be following the movie all that closely. I really want to take the chance to explore different potential stories in this timeline.

Hope that the formatting of this isn't too offputting, and if it is, please just let me know and I'll try to come up with something better. :)

* * *

**001. Beginnings**

He watched the light fade from the crystals, dimming the Fortress so gradually that it felt like night falling. Looking around, he seemed to be searching for something, maybe someone—but after making a revolution to take in the totality of his surroundings, he just sighed and looked skyward. The set of his shoulders was low, further accentuated by the skin-tight gray material that hugged his frame.

He flew from the fortress to a place of even greater solitude, barreling through the sky, no lingering to appreciate the breathtaking beauty of his surroundings.

Shutting himself into the place that would be his home for countless miles, he entered into hibernation with a slight frown marring his face.

It was a beginning, but it felt like an end.

--------------------

He nearly dropped the tower of file folders when his cell phone vibrated in his pocket.

"Shit," he said under his breath, dumping all the folders on his desk in exasperation, snapping open the phone perfunctorily when he saw who was calling. "Yes?"

"Richard. It's about time you got out of that dump."

Richard sighed. "I like it just fine here, Perry."

"You won't make any kind of name for yourself at that toilet paper factory they're trying to pass off as a newspaper."

"It's not like you've made me a better offer," Richard checked his watch, wondering whether he in for the full lecture today or the abbreviated version.

"Well, boy, consider today your lucky one, because I'm about to."

**002. Middles**

The dreams were fragmented, disjointed—images of his mother whacking the farm over with a wooden spoon, Lois yelling at the Earth to spin slower and let her catch up, Jimmy sitting atop a pile of newspapers like a king on his throne, his crown falling down his head.

His craft hurdled on, heedless of its passenger; it didn't hear or acknowledge his low whispers, his fitful tossing and turning.

Passing some of the most spectacular sights of the galaxy had to offer, mere flashes of color at speed, he slept.

He was suspended not only in time, but life.

--------------------

They were getting to the stage where they needed to "shape up or ship out," as Perry would say. Jason was going to be two years old next week and Richard's old apartment had just been signed out for a new lease. He hadn't lived there for a year but Lois had been adamant that he not sell the place.

She never used the word "insurance," but she didn't have to.

He looked at the ring, unable to see the difference between getting stuck and making a new beginning, because they looked exactly the same from where he was sitting.

**003. Ends**

He stared with an intensity that could burn through metal, turn water to vapor; there was a palpable hardness in his gaze, the very same that had sent thousands of criminals cowering to their knees before him. It demanded surrender.

Fixated on the vision before him with such determination and force of will, it was a surprise the jagged rocks didn't shudder beneath him. His eyes burned with the brightness and destruction of a nova birthing a star.

But even the strength of his gaze could not resurrect what was gone.

Now he knew what an ending really felt like.

--------------------

"We haven't set a date yet!" Lois stormed out of the room, slamming her glass down on the countertop and fleeing up the stairs.

Richard wanted to fill the awkward silence that pulled taut like a rubber band in the room, but he was stifled by the force of her reaction. He held up his a glass like he was making a toast, nodded, and walked quickly towards the back porch, aware that every eye in the room was on him.

The date, apparently, was the least of their problems. Looking upward, he stared right into the sun without blinking.

**004. Insides**

He closed his eyes, shutting out the interior of the craft from his vision. The walls, blank, left far too much room for him to remember, white space filling with the vision of his tragedy.

The craft began to move as it had been commanded to, launching down to the very second. Yet he ignored the mild command to hibernation, instead beating his fists against every available surface, using enough force to tear it open from the inside out.

And he'd thought being in here, away from the vast emptiness, would be easier.

But it was just as empty inside.

--------------------

Stars faded into being on the darkening dusk; Richard watched, impassive, let the sea breeze play over him, caressing chills from his exposed skin, soaking him with the faint undertone of salt and foam. The bedroom light above his head had snapped on hours ago.

"Daddy?" Jason's voice was small behind him.

Richard turned, ran swiftly to the backdoor, crouching in front of his three year old son, not even taking time to wonder how he could have opened the heavy glass door all on his own.

"Coming in?" Jason asked, eyes plaintive.

He smiled. "Of course, son. Of course."

**005. Outsides**

He stumbled, dazed, balance thrown off because he'd burst forth from the craft like a man freed from a life sentence.

His pupils shrunk into focus he saw the cornfields.

"Home?" He whispered hoarsely, stretching a hand forward, trembling.

Collapsing to his knees just as his mother came around the bend, he emitted a low growl that grew into a sonic boom; it forced her to put her hands over her ears until he had quieted and she could approach him.

She helped him walk to the house when he refused, in no uncertain terms, to get in the truck.

--------------------

He slid the door open and came up behind her, said nothing. It was colder up here on the balcony, lonelier.

"I'm sorry," she said, sounded for all the world like she was.

"I know."

Neither of them had to explain.

"It won't happen again." Her fingers fidgeted, wanting a cigarette.

He leaned against the railing, looked to the lights of the city. "You didn't have to say yes," he added; his voice was even but the undertones were fractured.

She nodded, too quick. "I know." Worried at a hangnail. "I _wanted_ to."

Richard's thought was inexpressibly sad.

_I know_.


	2. Chapter 2: Time

**006. Hours**

Waking, the first thing he saw was the craft. Every hour he'd left it just sitting blared jangling alarms in his mind. There was no doubt about its origins, even though it dug into the dirt like a spade; it was alien through and through, jarring harshly against the serenity of the flat fields.

Krypton did not belong on this farm.

It didn't belong anywhere except in his memories.

His mother had a glass of lemonade ready when he returned from the Fortress. "You were gone for so long." Melancholy.

But they both knew he would be gone again soon.

--------------------------

The traffic was palpably disgusting; he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and checked his watch for the twentieth time. Progressing through the noxious crawl of greenhouses gases was slow torture. He'd deliberately missed four calls on his phone already, no doubt from Perry to drill him on the details of the accident that was behind his extreme tardiness.

When the ringtone went off again, he groaned, slumping back in his seat; he almost missed the flash across the sky when he blinked.

He stared at that very spot for the rest of the ride, missing another five calls.

**007. Days**

His sense of time must be slipping; he'd intended to be home long ago, but Metropolis, as always, drew him in. He could smell the dinner cooking, see his mother slipping bits of roasted meat to Shelby. Hovering outside the window, he was caught between.

She lifted her head, saw him, smiled, waved; he went in, sat at the kitchen table, just like when he was a boy, a glass of lemonade already waiting for him.

"Mom…"

Her shoulders tightened but her voice was quiet. "Not even a few more days?"

He stood, wrapped an arm around her.

"I'm sorry."

--------------------------

She tossed her shoes haphazardly in the bag, hair in a wild corona around her in head; he privately thought of it as her on the trail of a big story style.

"No more than a few days," she said, wrapping a scarf around her neck and quickly evaluating it in the mirror. She discarded it and dug in the drawer for another.

"Have you talked to the Andersons?"

"Oh," another scarf casualty, "I'm sure they won't mind."

He put it at the top of his mental list.

"Call whenever you get the chance."

He left her to get ready.

**008. Weeks**

It was reckless, maybe sacrilegious, in a way, to be up here, sitting atop the globe that was one of Metropolis's most beautiful landmarks, but he was drawn into its orbit and held by the center of gravity. Home away from home.

The week at the farm had been good, safe, quiet. Up here he found some of the same quiet, but everything else around him was bustling, moving, flowing, living. It was a reminder of something easily forgotten in the reaches of space: life never stopped. And he didn't want it to.

But now, maybe he could catch up.

--------------------------

He dropped the article on Perry's desk and bumped into his uncle as he turned to leave the office.

"What's the rush?"

Richard shrugged.

"I feel like we haven't talked in weeks, Richard—sit down."

He did, wary. "Is there a problem?"

Perry smiled. "Nothing like that. I knew those White genes didn't go to waste in you. But…" His demeanor became serious. "I need to know what's going on, with you and Lois."

Richard started to deny but Perry's face brooked none of it.

He swallowed, trying to start at the beginning, which, in this case, was the end.

**009. Months**

Metropolis was always moving, always changing. He didn't know why he'd expected it to be the same.

Lois hadn't walked into the building today.

He craned his head back, seeing a path straight up if he so desired to take it.

For him, it had only been months. For her, four years. There was no comparing and contrasting here; it was an equation that stunning with its blunt simplicity.

The situation had changed.

He floated off the globe, placing down gently on the rooftop below, perching on the stone corner where he'd first seen her.

Impossible to catch, now lost.

--------------------------

Richard walked by Lois's desk and loosened his tie, swallowing his truth back down. The office seemed warmer, walls pressing in, air short.

Speaking aloud the thoughts that had been culminating in his mind for the past few months was one of the hardest things he'd ever done.

_What do you want to do?_ Perry had asked. The one question he had no answer for. Where could they go from here?

He shed his coat and tossed it over the back of his chair, unbuttoning his cuffs.

Stifled. He was stifled, everywhere.

He took the stairs two at a time.

**010. Years**

He heard the noisy approach but didn't run from it. No reason to, not dressed in jeans and a t-shirt.

Kal-El heard the man long before he saw him, feet falling heavy and rhythmic, breath coming fast but not struggling despite the long ascent.

He burst out of the corridor like Kal had burst out of his craft.

Rumpled, clothing loose, yet perfectly maintained, Kal couldn't help but stare. The man ran a hand through his hair and froze when he saw Kal. The silence stretched to years between them.

Breaking it, he came to the ledge.

"Enjoying the view?"

--------------------------

The stranger tilted his head in ascent, eyes catching on the far horizon.

"I am. I missed it."

"Oh?" Richard said, noting the attire that was too casual for a Planet employee.

"Yes… I was gone. For a long time."

Richard leaned over the ledge on his crossed arms, bending at the waist. "No place like home."

The stranger laughed, low, but there was nothing light or happy about it.

"Truer words," he said, fixing those sky-captured eyes on Richard again.

"Do you mind if I ask…?"

"Kal-El," the stranger replied, forehead furrowing, expression a marriage of surprise and worry.


	3. Chapter 3: Colors

**011. Red**

"Nice to meet you, Kal-El," the man reached his hand out. "I'm Richard. Richard White."

Kal accepted both offerings. "Any relation to Perry?"

"The one and only." He smiled, sun shattering the clouds. "I'm the good for nothing nephew."

Kal squinted, looked more closely. "I don't see the resemblance," but he didn't just mean Richard's appearance. Richard's hand was warm, firm—real. Kal loosed it with just the slightest reluctance. His skin was still re-learning contact

"You know him well?" Richard asked. He was casual but Kal could hear the reporter surfacing.

"I did." Kal looked to the west. "Once."

----------------------

A flash of red as the man adjusted his heavy black jacket, just under the collar, another small detail to drop into the equation of this tantalizing enigma.

Richard laced his fingers together and followed an impulse that was humming in his them.

"We're hiring. If you're interested."

"How could you tell…?"

Richard shrugged, gesturing at the vista below them. "The way you look at the city, like you're… trying to take its pulse."

"Keen observation is—"

Richard grinned and finished Perry's famous quote, "The true sign of a good reporter."

Kal grinned back. "That makes two of us, then."

**012. Orange**

Richard laughed. "But it didn't say anything in there about being smart." He crouched down behind the ledge and re-emerged holding a soggy bag.

"This was here overnight," he explained, peeling back the wet paper carefully. Kal watched his fingers move, deft and quick, revealing a metallic thermos and a large orange.

Richard examined the fruit, holding it up to the sun and cleaning it on his shirt when he was satisfied.

"Half?" Richard said, holding it out for Kal to look at.

"I—" Kal looked at those thin fingers cradling the vibrant splash of color.

"Yes. Thank you."

----------------------

They ate in companionable silence, tossed the peels to a few seagulls that fought over the inedible material with loud squawks and flaps.

Richard non-verbally hemmed and hawed, stretching the companionable silence as far as it would hold. It Kal who finally spoke.

"I'll think about what you said."

"Great," Richard said. He straightened from the ledge, put his hand out again. "A pleasure to meet you, Kal-El. Maybe I'll see you around?"

"Maybe," Kal smiled.

Richard descended the stairs slowly and at the bottom, looked at the thermos in his hand and wondered who had left it up there.

**013. Yellow**

He barreled into the sky the second the coast was clear, heading high, high, higher. He drowned his sensations in all Metropolis had to offer, scanning over every detail to re-memorize the contours and configurations. Apartment buildings where only concrete had once lain, old criminal havens cleaned up and new ones to replace them, refurbished buses, a proliferation of hand-held devices.

He opened to the sounds, voices, horns blaring, tires squealing, babies laughing and crying, adults greeting, parting, arguing—a veritable flood.

But as the last sliver of yellow was swallowed by twilight, it was only Richard's voice that remained.

----------------------

He watched the sun go down while he drove, enjoying the play of color, the draining of the day into night. There traffic was light because he'd missed the rush hour, unwilling to sit through another jam, and his mound slowly unwound from his day in the silence.

The flares of red and orange fought a prolonged battle against the impinging black but lost bit by bit as his tires ate up the miles.

And when the last of the light made its stand and he saw that same streak in the sky, he was grateful he hadn't been blinking.

**014. Green**

"Healthy and good," Kal speared another leaf from the salad Richard insisted on sharing. "Who knew?"

"My—" Richard stabbed his own fork listlessly. "Well…let's just say I eat healthy at home."

Kal turned this statement over, chewing on it with the arugula. "City food is enough to make my mom's biscuits and gravy, sometimes."

"Homemade?"

Richard groaned when Kal nodded.

"It sounds incredible."

"It is." Kal grinned. "Maybe I'll bring you some next time I visit."

"She lives nearby?"

"…near enough."

"I might have to take you up on that."

"Please do."

Kal's face felt hot, but pleasantly so.

----------------------

"I'll be home soon," He dropped the last of the papers into his case. "Great. Thanks again for watching him."

He closed the phone and Perry's shadow fell in his doorway.

"Heading home? Give that kiddo a hug for me."

Richard smiled. "I won't tell him."

When Perry lifted off the doorframe to leave, chuckling, the impulse thrummed in his knuckles again and he blurted it out. "Perry—do you trust me to make a hire?"

Perry looked at him for so long Richard wasn't sure he'd get an answer.

"Yep. You're not so green, anymore." Then he was gone.

**015. Blue**

Kal rolled down the sleeves of the flannel shirt, unwrapping his arm and simultaneously wrapping up a thought that frightened him. Crossing his ankles, he leaned back against the columns and counted Richard's ascending steps.

The door opened at noon on the dot; Kal nearly fell off the ledge when he smelled flaky biscuits and butter, corn sautéed in onions and—he couldn't believe it—a peach cobbler.

Richard started to lay out the tupperwares. "I know it's nothing like real down home cooking, but—"

"This is amazing." Kal breathed, placing a hand on Richard's wrist. "Please… let me."

----------------------

Richard couldn't move, paradoxically frozen into place by the warm contact.

"It's the least I can do," Kal said, tracing a light circle on Richard's skin before letting go. Richard nodded, swallowed, and jumped up on ledge, leaning against the opposite column. The air seemed so thin up here.

He watched Kal lay out their lunch and he wanted to explain why he'd made it, how he knew that feeling, being away from home. He understood.

But then Kal looked up and took the words from Richard's mouth him with his eyes, filled to their brims and overflowing with blue.


	4. Chapter 4: Colors 2

**016. Purple**

Kal just barely stopped himself from turning around when the door opened. It was a hope he hadn't dared, and the presence of it—Richard's heartbeat, loud, steady, his low and regulated breathing, his soft footfalls—soothed a place inside him.

Richard set down his case, climbed up and sat by Kal's side without a word, their thighs mere inches apart.

"I love when the sun is low like this," Richard said, taking a deep breath.

"Me too," he said. The beauty was everywhere around them, high and low.

Yet he knew that wasn't why he came up here anymore.

------------------------

"Did you know," he mused, leaning back on his arms, "that just at this time, if you're angled a certain way, the sky looks more purple than blue?"

"I did." Kal's laughter was rich but somehow Richard knew that he wasn't being ridiculed. It was more like a celebration. "It's one of the best part of going up."

He looked at Kal. "You fly."

"And you?"

He grinned. "All my life."

Kal nodded, seeming satisfied. They watched the day unfurl its final glories and silence settled. Kal's jaw worked before he spoke what sounded like a quiet admission.

"Me too."

**017. Brown**

Five o'clock on the dot brought Richard, holding the door open with his foot and carrying a black garment bag in his right hand and his briefcase his left.

"You've got to see this, Kal-El." Richard's eyes were twinkling.

"What is it?" He resisted the temptation to x-ray.

"Patience, my friend." Richard laid the bag down reverently, unzipping it and taking out a heavy brown bomber-style jacket. He slipped it on his frame, holding his arms out and beaming at Kal.

Kal's fingers reached out of their own accord to caress the soft leather.

"It's genuine," he said with wonder.

------------------------

"Circa 1933. Worn by my dad, and before that, my grandpa."

Kal quickly withdrew his hand, abashed. "I'm so sorry… I didn't realize…"

Richard shook his head. "But that's why I brought it. I knew you'd understand."

And before he knew it, they'd discussed fifty years of aviation history; his watch said to go home.

"Tomorrow?"

Kal nodded absentmindedly, eyeing the newspaper under Richard's arm.

He saw Kal hesitate. "I'm not ready yet," Kal finally said, touching two fingers to the paper.

Richard smiled gently. "I know." He placed a hand on Kal's shoulder. "But I'm here when you are."

**018. Black**

He caught a meteorite in the mesosphere, letting its force carry his body back a few feet before he straightened and held it out for examination. Still red-hot from the blazing trail in left in the sky, he blew on it to speed up the cooling process. It dulled down to a opaque black that, in his mind, only existed in space.

Leaving behind the thermosphere, he tossed the chunk around, playing catch with gravity, and after the exosphere, with the vacuum.

But before long the cries from below became unbearable, and he descended.

He could never forget his responsibilities.

------------------------

"Can I get your opinion on something, Richard?" Jimmy popped his head into the doorway, looking hopeful.

"Please," Richard gestured, "Sit. What can I do you for, Jimmy?"

Jimmy obeyed, plopping down a pile of files. "I've been following the criminal reports, sir, and I noticed something odd."

Richard flipped through the offered papers, "Go on."

"Well, apparently, there's this guy out there stopping crimes in progress. A lot of them. But he's in and out of the scene so fast no one can get a good look at him. All they know is he's tall, medium build, black hair."

**019. White**

Kal walked into the library, pulling the jacket tighter and automatically adjusting his glasses even though they didn't need it. They were new, thin black frames, an impulse buy. They were so light it was like wearing nothing at all.

He tried to find his way through the maze but it was too different from the last time he was here.

"What can I help you with?" The woman at the front counter sighed, tucking back a flyaway strand of hair.

"I'd like to do a keyword search of the newspapers."

"What for?" She typed in a flurry.

"Richard White."

------------------------

Jimmy leaned in, whispering. "I think it could be a vigilante."

"Really?" Richard said, running his fingers over the report. _Witness described a Caucasian male, medium-to-large build, "very tall," over 6'._

"Do you think I should take it to Perry?"

"Tell you what, Jimmy," Richard shut the report. "I'll keep an eye on these for you and if it starts to look like a story, I'll give you the word."

Jimmy nodded, subdued, but he still smiled and stuck out his hand. "Thanks for all your help, Mr. White."

Richard shook it, forcing a smile. "Sure thing, Jimmy. Sure thing."

**020. Colorless**

Kal sped through the articles, only forced to slow when the microfiche knob started to heat up. He went through the last four years, absorbing massive amounts of information that he filed away for later; he was dismayed but not completely shocked to see how much criminal activity had occurred while he was gone. But thankfully nothing irreparable.

And then, hunching over the machine, glancing around furtively, he worked his way through his search results, starting with the earliest.

When he got to the most recent article, "Lane and Fiancé White Attend Charity Ball," his face drained of all blood.

------------------------

"…_According to witness the man jumped to the roof of the next building, but the distance between is over twenty feet. Witness admitted to light drinking that night; account is suspect."_

Richard sank deeper into his chair in the darkening office.

"…_Third witness reported that unidentified rescuer moved so fast he could not see his face. Yet he accurately identified his attacker down to a birthmark on his neck."_

At the bottom of the stack was a sketch rendered in clean black and white.

Colorless. Not at all like the Kal-El he knew.

He shut the file and left, churning.


	5. Chapter 5: Relationships

**Author'****s Note:** This set really really _really_ surprised me. (Did I emphasize the really enough there? ;)

I'd just like to explain, in case it wasn't obvious from my hit-you-over-the-head style characterization, that I'm really banking on the fact that Kal has changed a lot because of his trip to Krypton. And even knowing that, he still surprises me (coughsuch as in Friends and Lovers, especiallycough). I just basically write it as it comes, so every new one of these I can often be just as taken aback by what happens as someone who's reading. 

Essentially what I'm saying is... don't blame me, I just dictate it. :-D Oh, and as another excuse if this isn't proofed very well, I had various people bothering me while I was writing, damn them. :(

**021. Friends**

Still on the outside, but inside, he was trembling like a coming earthquake. The night in the Fortress hadn't settled his mind and he was wound so tight that the stone turned to dust under his fingers.

Every time Richard's shoes hit the concrete steps he came closer and closer to an edge, skirting a fall. But there was no ground or sky, no buildings or cars; all he could see was the snapshot of Richard holding Lois's elbow, both laughing, looking like perfection in a moment.

So he was surprised when the door opened and, actually… he was soaring.

-----------------------------

It snapped the air like loosed cords of electricity, firing sparks through the air. Richard took pause, walking with deliberation through the storm, crossing the distance that could have been a lifetime or, maybe, the whole of the civilization this man had saved.

He sat next to Kal; no lunch today, none of the papers he had spent the last day looking through.

Nothing but them.

He took a breath; a thrill went through his nerves when, as he spoke, he heard his question echoed across from him in Kal's low voice, in his sorrowed eyes.

"We're still friends, right?"

**022. Enemies**

The laughter was unexpected, unforeseen, an unspoken answer to their shared question, and so welcome that he almost couldn't breathe for relief.

It calmed the storm and the earthquake, for now.

He shouldn't have been surprised. Richard was always bringing him the gift of the unexpected, like the words he so casually spoke next. "Four years is a long time."

Kal laughed again because this was nothing he'd ever done before and he had no appropriate response in his repertoire.

"It really is," He said, aware of how true it was.

"Back for good?"

He looked right at Richard.

"Yes."

-----------------------------

He hated himself for bringing it up when Kal still had the remnant of a smile curling his lips. But if not now, he may never.

"Well… there are… some things you should know." He took a deep breathe, started with what was easy. "Luthor wasn't tried. They can't pinpoint him, but chances are he's somewhere in the east."

"So I read. The man belongs in jail." Kal's fists tightened with firm resolve. "I'll find him."

Richard wanted to reach out, offer help; anything to stall what he had to say next.

He was no more ready than Kal was.

**023. Lovers**

"She's home tomorrow."

Kal reeled, wondering if Richard was deliberately trying to shatter what remaining semblance they had of normalcy, the last shreds of their wholly unusual and teetering friendship.

"You could talk to her, you know." Richard wrung his hands.

It wasn't like him to let words spill out heedlessly.

And what Kal saw—recognized—was a man putting two others he cared about before himself.

"Not that you couldn't go find her," Richard went on, stumbling, "Because you—well. It's just… if you were worried about…"

A single finger to stop the flood.

"She's not why I'm here."

-----------------------------

The physical presence was gone as soon as it'd appeared; he blinked and Kal's hands were folded in his lap, nonchalant as could be. But the whispered touch remained, a tactile phantom; it effectively stalled the string of meaningless words that Richard had been so fit to unravel.

"Oh."

"But… thank you for telling me."

Richard's spine relaxed from its washboard stiffness, his fingers unclenched, and the roar in his ears subsided. "She misses you," he said softly, infused with courage by their proximity.

Kal shook his head. "Not me."

His voice rang low, like a bell tolled at midnight.

**024. Family**

He tried to stop the words, but they'd brewed since he'd stumbled out of that library, heartshot.

"She may be right. The world may not need Superman."

"The world needs you." Richard sounded so sure; he hated the bitter laugh that barked out of his mouth. "Me… is very complicated." He closed his eyes. "Superman's gone. I'm all that's left."

Richard's hand on his gave him the strength to emerge from the mire.

"Besides," he said, offering what must have been a shaky smile. "She has a family now."

The smile solidified, outlined in melancholic curves.

"She has you."

-----------------------------

"I said that the world needs _you_, Kal-El. Just… you."

Richard withdrew his hand, afraid of invading, afraid of how much he wanted to keep it there.

"And Lois may have me," he heard a laugh that sounded much like Kal's. "But no one, least of all me, has her."

He felt Kal's hand enclosed his, unearthly warm.

"We have a family. You're right."

A tear fell onto their intertwined fingers, his or Kal's, he didn't know.

"That's… _all_ we have."

A lie four years in the making.fell like rain from his eyes.

The truth had finally set him free.

**025. Strangers**

Four years ago, Clark Kent would have tracked down Lois Lane, eager to find any word of her; he probably would have continued to try and woo her in his own clumsy fashion and prayed that, maybe, someday—she might want him back.

But that Clark was being buried in the desperation of a last scion.

And Kal knew better.

Yet the thought of her and Richard together had been enough to make him beat the walls of crystal, their brilliant radiance dancing under his fists and crescendoing with his screams.

It made no sense.

Now who was the stranger?

-----------------------------

He'd thought that he'd interpreted all the signs correctly, put them all in their logical place. The late nights she spent at work, the slippery slope of discussing their wedding date, the reluctance she showed whenever Richard asked about adopting Jason legally. The fact that a few days' trip had stretched into ten and she talked to Jason every night, but only twice to him.

_She_ was the one withdrawing, not him.

But when he couldn't even bring himself to give her a welcome home kiss, diverting casually to her cheek, the tables had turned.

He was the stranger, now.


	6. Chapter 6: Relationships and Events

**Notes: **Sorry about the double upload. First didn't want me to upload at all, then it acted wonky once I did. Oh, and these drabbles are all over the place, sorry I'm such a scatterbrain. Hope they're readable anyway despite that :)**  
**

**026. Teammates**

Kal smiled when the stands burst into applause, the excited parents jumping up and cheering on their children who played with much more enthusiasm than skill, but more than made up for it with the fact that their uniforms had to be, hands-down, the most adorable Kal had ever seen. He knew his mother had some pictures of him stashed away in an album of five that chronicled his forays into team sports. Seeing Richard's son playing—well, trying to play—brought back some good memories, some bad.

Waving to Richard from the back stand, he focused on the good.

--------------------

"Glad you could make it," Richard reached for a handshake, thought _to Hell with it _and pulled Kal into a brief hug.

"Me too. Good game." Kal said, crouching down. "You kicked some real butt out there, buddy."

Jason beamed. "Thanks, Mr.…"

"Kal." He glanced up at Richard. "Call me Kal."

"Thanks Mr. Kal!"

Richard was content to watch them interact. Kal, without even needing to be told, was gentle with Jason, encouraging without acting forced and genuinely interested in what his son had to say. He grinned.

Kal never failed to exceed his every expectation, no matter how high.

**027. Parents**

Soaring over the baseball field as Richard's car receded in the distance, he savored the sight.

The afternoon had been full of light, laughter, and a camaraderie borne cooperation rather than competition. There'd been a few minor mishaps but they didn't call for Superman's strength, only a well-placed band-aid and a kiss from an understanding parent.

Watching Richard with his son was a true joy. He reminded Kal so poignantly of Jonathan—a role model in not just everything he said, but everything he did.

The kind of father, he thought with a sad smile, that a boy never outgrew.

--------------------

As Jason regaled his action figures with the tale of today's adventures Richard made his way to the bedroom. He paused at the doorway, listening briefly; Lois was on the phone and he turned, an excuse already on the tip of his mind.

"No," he said, gripping to knob tighter and going in.

"Okay. We'll see you at seven." She tossed the phone on the bed, removing the pins from her hair.

"Seven?" He asked.

Not tonight. Not _tonight_.

"Oh, my parents are taking us out to dinner." She dropped a pin in the crystal bowl. "Didn't I tell you?"

**028. Children**

_Wait 'till you have your own, Kal_, Richard had said earlier today, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

_Maybe_, he'd replied, looking away from Jason running circles around his baseball bat.

_Well, you'd make a great dad,_ Richard had said, sensing something was wrong.

Kal shrugged, trying to dislodge the old and heavy weight of the thought. _But I… I don't know if I… if I could. Or if I… should._

Richard had paused, thoughtful. Finally, he'd caught Kal's eye and spoke with a quiet conviction.

_I hope that you can. Because the world needs more of you in it._

-------------------- _  
_

"Do you ever wonder if…" he speared the asparagus, forging ahead. "If maybe he had a reason for leaving?"

The sound of metal on china told him more than he wanted to know.

"I think I made my opinions on the subject _abundantly _clear in my article. The reason is irrelevant."

"But don't you care about…"

She slammed her fist, knuckles bloodless white. "After what he did to me?" Her voice was shrill enough to shatter his last doubt.

"To us," she amended, too late.

But her eyes, begging him to understand what she couldn't say, told a different story.

**029. Birth**

"You won't get away with this, alien freak," Luthor hissed in his ear.

Kal didn't dignify that with a response.

Luthor's voice practically dripped smugness. "They'll find me. They'll come looking."

"And I'll stop in once a week to make sure you're enjoying your stay," Kal replied, nonplused.

All the obscenities of the English language—and a few in Russian and German—were hurled at him as he set the villain down on the deceptively beautiful sands of the tropic.

"I'll make you regret the day you were born!" He cried, shaking his fist.

Kal laughed all the way home.

--------------------

He shut the last drawer, glancing at his watch; it wouldn't be long before she was home and he still had to clean up. He straightened the papers with trembling hands, trying to place them exactly as he'd found them—oddly, the only place in the house she managed to keep neat.

When he was done, he looked over the credit card statement once more. He'd highlighted exactly one part of the order history: "Papa Giovanni's, $78.34." Four years ago, last month.

That part of his search had been easy enough.

But Jason's birth certificate was nowhere to be found.

**030. Death**

He came to the earth with no grace, body and mind wracked. He pulled his black jacket in tighter, shrinking visibly as he kneeled at the site, grass releasing a stinging fragrance under his jeans. The image of his mother chiding him for stains flashed across his mind, but he knew it was just an excuse.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, reaching out a hand to trace the script that had started to fade.

"What would you want of me, father?"

He fought not to crush the stone under his fingers.

"_What would you want_?"

--------------------

His voice tore open the sky.

"I don't care what she says, who the fuck _doesn't_ want Superman?" Richard yelled, hurling his car keys at the concrete wall. By some strange twist of fate there had been a liquor store just across the street from the County Clerk's Office there. It hadn't seemed so strange to purchase the bottles of wine and opener.

But he hadn't meant to finish one before getting back to the car. Which he couldn't even find now.

"I can't drive," he realized aloud, unwilling to court death.

Slumping to the ground, he whispered for the only thing he had left.

"_Kal_."


	7. Chapter 7: Events and Feelings

**031. Sunrise**

Richard slept. The flight, the makeshift cocoon Kal constructed from blankets he'd pulled out of his mom's attic, the anxious fretting over Richard like he was at his deathbed instead of just fallen-down drunk—all this, he slept.

But when Kal lay next to him, enshrouded in crystal and the susurrations of organic technology, Richard sighed closer.

When the earth shifted, the light broke their haven. Metropolis called.

"Not mine," Richard mumbled under his breath as Kal laid him in his real bed, body subsumed in white.

_I am_, Kal's body said, disappearing with the first ray of the sun.

--------------------

Fluttering between dreaming and waking, he saw Kal, outlined in radiance, looking down on him with something akin to the heat of the sun.

The next time he opened his eyes, the room was flooded with an assault of light; he groaned, burrowing down further. He surfaced for the aspirin and water on the nightstand, squinting blearily at the note. _Perry said take it easy, come in when you can_. He laughed at the obvious lie, instantly regretted it, and laid back gingerly, into relief. Closing his eyes was better.

Behind them was the most beautiful sunrise he'd ever seen.

**032. Sunset**

The harrowing angle of the spire was scant support for his frame but the shadow that coalesced beside him did not protest.

"You're back." Graveled welcome.

A pause of scrutiny.

"But you haven't returned."

Kal kept eyes fixed ahead on the blood of Gotham in the sky. "I don't know how."

"That's not why you're here."

"I came to tell you. Face to face. I'm sure you've noticed… my activities."

The dark head inclined in acknowledgement. "Superman isn't out there," he said, a wing to the swollen sun.

"Then where?"

The darkness settled in, patient.

"Only you know that, Kal."

--------------------

He handed her the mug, the wisps of steam swept away by the cool night breeze.

"You shouldn't be out here," she said, the crimson sunset darkening her face.

"Lois," he crouched before her, placing his hands on her knees. "Eduardo found me a place near The Planet."

"So soon?" she said, twisted her fingers around the handle. She stared into the liquid as if she could divine their future in it.

"I have to go. I don't belong here, Lois." He went back inside.

"But you do."

But the wind just swept her words away into so much vapor.

**033. Too Much**

"The suffering never ends," Kal whispered.

"The nature of life, friend."

"And death," Kal turned to him. He was like the specter of a dying star.

The green eyes gentled as much as they could. "It cannot be changed."

"Why, then? What good do we do if it never ends?"

"To end the cycle would be to end life," he said, absorbing the depths of Kal's desperation. "And it's not what we're here for."

Bruce flashed, a reluctant brother, through the obsidian veil. "The greatest thing the world lost when you left was not a hero, Kal—it was hope."

--------------------

"I'll see you tomorrow morning to go to school, kiddo," he said, falsely cheerful.

"And softball?" Jason asked, slamming two of his figures into each other, biting his lip.

"Wouldn't miss them for the world," Richard said. He scooted closer to Jason and touched a finger under his chin. "Just because I'm staying with uncle Perry doesn't mean I won't see you," he said. "And mom'll be here, just like always."

"But I want you, daddy," Jason's action figures dropped to the floor.

All he wanted to say was _I know, son._

But even that would have been too much.

**034. Not Enough**

Kal accepted the words for the rare gift they were.

They sat in a silence that only those who bear the weight of the world can understand, an empathy borne of repeated failures, of the knowledge that, no matter how strong, no matter how dedicated, they would never be enough. Death leaves no room to falter.

"I have none left to offer," He said, voice hollow, rage all emptied from the inside out.

"Where do we look, Bruce?"

A gentle touch.

"To the unsung, friend. Our greatest heroes."

The hush of black on black and he was alone once more.

--------------------

"Look, Richard… I realize I should have told you… I know that. It's just… I mean, how could I? You should understand—it's not like you brought it up either once you…well. Not that you did anything wrong." Her heard her sigh, probably pinching the bridge of her nose trying to find the words.

"I'm sorry, Richard. More than I can say. Please just come home."

He closed his eyes, willing himself to feel something.

"It'll be different. I promise."

She hesitated, ending with a terse, "Call me. Please."

He closed the phone and let it clatter to the floor.

**035. Sixth Sense**

"I'm really glad you could make it," Richard said, his smile straining. His eyes were ringed in a spiderweb of red veins, hands trembling slightly..

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Kal replied, doing a quick x-ray on Richard but finding nothing.

Richard gave him an odd look. "C'mon," was all he said and they moved to the sidelines to watch Jason pitch, which he did with more enthusiasm than skill.

But then he took a deep breath, screwing his eyes up tight, and let the ball fly with such accuracy even Kal couldn't detect a waver in the line.

--------------------

"C'mon," He said, turning, stopped short by the grip of Kal's hand.

"What are you doing, Richard?" He asked, low and thrumming steel.

"What?" He felt himself breathing hard, not enough goddamned oxygen. "What? I just wanted you to come talk to Jason."

"Richard, you don't have to—"

"No!" Richard pushed away. "This is exactly what I have to do because this is the best way. We'll make it a smooth transition and no one will get hurt and I'll be fucking uncle Perry… and…and…"

The world spun and the last thing he remembered was Kal catching him.


	8. Chapter 8: The Senses

**036. Smell**

"We have to stop meeting like this," he whispered, a lame attempt at a joke but one he desperately needed, because if he paced the perimeter of the Fortress one more time he would literally go mad.

Delicately, he nudged the hair off Richard's brow, pulling the blanket up tighter. Despite the near constant x-rays, he couldn't pinpoint why Richard didn't rouse except the deep exhaustion etched in his forehead, the stress collected in his bunched muscles.

Finally, he gave in, finding the perfect cradle for his head, falling asleep to the mingled scents of Richard and the Kent farm.

---------------------

Without even opening his eyes, he could tell; the air felt different, smelled like sea and a hint of something he couldn't identify, not unpleasant, like the way he imagined light would distill into scent.

He felt a head nestled against his shoulder and smiled; too angular to be Lois and far too large to be Jason.

"Kal?" he croaked and the man was above him in an instant, his hair all pushed flat on one side from sleep, eyes wide; he looked so childlike.

"Are you okay, Richard?" His voice, hesitant and high, matched.

Richard smiled. "I am now."

**037. Sound**

"But I can hear your heartbeat," he insisted, "It sounds awfully fast. Are you sure you're alright?"

"That could be because…" Richard shimmied in his blanket of cocoons and made his point painfully clear.

Kal fumbled back, apologetic, "Let me get you out of those."

Richard snaked out a hand, placing it like a firebrand on Kal's wrist. "No, please. I'm still cold. You were keeping me warm," he said, lips twitching a bit.

"Oh," Kal breathed, settled down by his side again. Richard tossed the blankets over both of them, and Richard's heartbeat didn't seem so fast, after all.

---------------------

He looked at Kal. "Where are we, again?"

"I… live here. It's like… little piece of Krypton, on Earth."

"Ah." He smiled, "That explains the décor."

Kal looked stricken. "I didn't mean to assume, but I didn't want to bother Perry…and at the hospital they would have put you through unnecessary tests and it's very quiet here… and the coach took Jason home, and I'll take you back as soon as you're ready…"

Mirroring a gesture that Kal had used on him—it seemed like years, ago, now—he placed a single finger on the other man's lips.

"Thank you."

**038. Touch**

"I've never slept so well in my life," Richard said, his breath tickling Kal's lips. He sighed imperceptibly forward, "and right this second, there's nowhere in the world I'd rather be."

He tried to look away but Richard's finger traced a trail of fire from his lips to his jaw and the power of movement abandoned him. Drawn inexorably to their point of contact, he felt everything, down to the slightest groove of the fingerprint, the beat of Richard's pulse low under his skin.

And it felt perfectly natural when that inviting pulse drew his hand forward to its source.

---------------------

Richard simultaneously damned and was grateful for the layer of fabric serving as a thin barrier between them; he felt his heart leaping to meet Kal's touch, which for once, was not hesitant in the least, but warm, firm and deliciously real.

"I was so worried," Kal said, low, a simmering plea, bunching up Richard's shirt in his fist like it was manifest proof he wouldn't disappear.

"Sorry," Richard husked, cupping his hand on Kal's face, free falling forward.

His "let me make it up to you" was muffled into Kal's lips but his message got across loud and clear.

**039. Taste**

It was soft, light; not tentative but slow and deliberate, a meeting not just of the physical, the skin and heat and fingers lacing together, but two minds resolving into one will. Kal had a hard time telling where he began and Richard ended; they matched each other move for move, pressing closer, knitting their bodies into a flawless seam.

Unfolding under Richard's gentle inquiries, his lips parted in an invitation louder than words, fired with all the need that was galvanizing his veins.

He saw the blue of heaven and tasted its riches, saved without uttering a single prayer.

---------------------

Drowning in a sea of his own want, in the expanse of Kal's skin under his fingertips, he pried his way under the jacket and shirt only to encounter an even thicker and more resilient fabric clinging to what it was he needed. Thankfully, the protest was barely out of his throat when Kal briefly contorted and it was gone, just like that.

"Handy," he whispered, gasping when Kal returned the favor with a wicked grin and ran his blunt fingernails over Richard's back.

Arching back, Kal still burned onto his tongue, he decided madness wasn't so bad, after all.

**040. Sight**

He woke bathed in warmth, sun refracting in through the Fortress walls, casting a brilliant luminescence in the chamber. Richard was splayed across him, shirt unbuttoned (permanently, Kal realized with a grimace), hair tousled, breathing regular and steady.

He was the most relaxed Kal had seen him since they'd met, not a wrinkle to be seen, his full lips falling slack. The light softened the angles on his face; Kal caressed them lightly with a finger, drawing his hand back when Richard mumbled against his chest and shifted.

Propping his arms under his head, he let Richard sleep on, content.

---------------------

One minute he was flying a B-17 Bomber, on the verge of saving the country, in fact, and the next he was awake, his head on Kal's shoulder, who was looking down at him and opening his mouth in that way that meant he had no idea what to say. Richard propped himself up to try and figure out why he was…

Wait. Flying?

"I've got you," Kal finally managed, flexing his grip on Richard's waist and shoulder to demonstrate.

He watched the clouds break up behind them, grinning in disbelief. So much better than the dream.

"So I see."


	9. Chapter 9: Shapes

**041. Shapes**

He hovered above the crescent isle as Luthor slept. His clothes were tattered, skin darkened by the sun, face scowling even in rest. But even with a frown marring his features, one that may have been a threat in Metropolis, he was just one man out here, small, helpless. Alone.

Kal tossed the rations down; the string broke and parcels scattered on the sand, but still the man he'd once called nemesis slept, muttering, pulling the dried leaves closer.

He sped back to Metropolis. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he knew he wouldn't find it here.

-------------------------------

He sat at his new table in his new living room and sipped his coffee, watching the sun come in. From a small patch on the floor to an elongated track, it touched on the few pieces of furniture he had, but mostly brought the emptiness into sharper relief.

_You'll be right at home in no time,_ Eduardo had said before he left.

But the mug in his hand was wrong, the table, everything; like bashing square pegs into round holes, none of the shapes would fit into this strange puzzle that was now his life.

Him least of all.

**042. Triangle**

He followed the cries to a broken levy; a boy was struggling to stay afloat in the gushing torrents, rapidly losing the battle. No time to walk onto the scene, Kal dove into the water and propelled them to the shore, bringing them to rest on a toppled tree.

"Are you okay?" He asked; he could hear the boy's parents screaming nearby.

The boy, shivering, teeth chattering, just looked at him wide-eyed. His left hand unconsciously moving up to his sweatshirt to touch the all-too-familiar family crest rendered with surprisingly accuracy on the fabric.

Fear transfigured into wonder.

"Thanks, Superman."

-------------------------------

He ran his thumbnail along the crease to make it extra crisp, humming with satisfaction. Carefully poised, he launched his creation, the tip of his tongue sticking out of his mouth with concentration.

The plane made a full circuit of the office before coming to land on his desk again. He made motions that were the equivalent of a self high-five, grinning, lobbing another into the air.

Only to be stopped by Lois's dark curls. "Funny, Richard, very funny." She threw the files onto his desk and stalked out.

He retrieved it, dropping it into the trash with a sigh.

**043. Square**

Kal pushed the glasses up higher as he walked down the street; though it was effortless for him to navigate the thick crowds, his eyes darted all around like he was trapped. Every now and then he stepped out of the flow into a quiet spot, gathering himself and examining the veritable glut of merchandise.

Five stores and with the help of twelve very patient sales clerks later, he left downtown with his prize in hand, smiling shyly every time he looked down at it.

Even just looking at the box—sleek, black, elegant—made him happy.

He'd chosen well.

-------------------------------

"Here, I'll walk it with you," Richard said, holding Jason's hand and leading him around the bases. The coach had been very patient with the fact that Jason often got them mixed up and occasionally ran the wrong way entirely, but his teammates weren't always so understanding.

"Mommy said games are silly," Jason said.

Richard laughed. "She has a point. But as long as you're having fun, kiddo, it's fine to be silly."

"Do you play silly games, daddy?" He said, taking a huge step over second base and avoiding it entirely.

"I do," he said, ruffling Jason's hair. "Unfortunately."

**044. Circle**

"I typed this up for you at the library," he prefaced, slipping the papers across the stone. In his periphery, he watched Richard pick them up with curious reverence.

"This looks great, Kal. I didn't realize you'd worked here for so long. Re-hiring you isn't going to be an issue, at all." He glanced over, tone lowering. "If that's what you want, of course. But I can also help you find another position if you'd be more comfortable…"

He wrung the napkin between his fingers and shook his head.

"No…" Kal smiled. "For better or for worse, I belong here."

-------------------------------

"Just tell me when; my office is always open to you," he said, setting the résumé underneath his thermos so it wouldn't fly away. "The interview is just a formality, of course."

He picked up his sandwich again, but didn't take a bite, brows furrowing as he put the pieces together. "A Smallville address? You haven't found a place here in the city yet?"

Kal shrugged, a little sheepish. "I can't say I've looked."

"Remind me to give you Eduardo's card and I'll call him tonight."

He swallowed the offer he really wanted to make with a sip of coffee.

**045. Moon**

"Eight a.m.?" he asked, tipping back the beer.

Richard nodded, popping the top on another. "Bright and early."

"Bet I've got the longest commute of everyone," he said, forcing a laugh, trying to alleviate the jitters that were crawling under his skin at the thought of being Clark Kent again.

"And I bet I've got the shortest," Richard grinned, opening his arms in a wide gesture to the nightscape before them that was dominated by the Daily Planet building.

"What a pair we are," he said, watching the moon come up over the silver globe, companions of a different sort.

-------------------------------

Eight beers later, Richard was drunk.

"Why are we still up?" He slurred, trying to read his watch in the encroaching gloom.

"I dunno," Kal said, leaning over to look at it as well. "2:14AM," he pronounced matter-of-factly. "We have to be at work soon."

"Yeah," Richard said, meeting Kal's eyes, caring less about work or sleep or anything not involving what was right here in front of him.

"I guess it's time for my commute," Kal said, licking his lips and looking at Richard's.

"Or you could save the gas money." Richard impulsed, reaching, bringing them hairbreadth apart. "Stay."


	10. Chapter 10: Shapes

**Author's Notes: **Wow, halfway done. O.O I must admit I'm a bit shocked and quite pleased. And **many many thanks** to Saavikam and Asrai for all the lovely feedback up to this point :-) You two are the reason that I remember to upload here, because sometimes falls to the wayside after I've posted in my writing LJ. I can't tell you how much I appreciate the kind words. Well, enough with my blather, on with the chapter :-)

**046. Star**

Like touching a star. But not the body, the flaming maelstrom in that place beyond place, not like flying through the burning layers and being immersed in the center of the storm, so condensed that existence seemed to pause inside. Similar, but not quite.

It was more like looking up at the sky, and seeing that idea of a star, the beacon of something better even when the darkness is total and the sun is a mere memory; like reaching out and holding that light, so fragile but cupped in eternity, in your hand.

And Kal was lit with hope.

---------------------------

"Which one is it?"

Kal slid his arm down, cradling Richard's and guiding it up to show him.

"Right there," he murmured in Richard's ear. "That's it."

"It still shines." Richard curled his arm around his chest, tilting his head and kept his eyes on it, memorizing its location.

"It will for a long time."

He kissed Kal's fingers, acknowledging the loss. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

"I'm glad that I… know." Kal kissed the top of his head and he almost missed it being whispered into his hair, like a verbal smile. "And… it brought me here."

**047. Heart**

In the back of the taxi, he practiced the time-honored motions—adjusting his glasses, straightening his tie, fumbling with a pencil—because, though he was properly dressed, his body was hesitant to remember. Resisting as if it knew something he didn't.

By the time he walked into the building he was driven to the point of distraction and the act was no longer forced; he nearly knocked Jimmy over trying to find him.

And when he saw Lois, his body resisted that, too, sending him hurtling down to the floor in a spectacular heap.

Just like in the old days.

---------------------------

There were times he hated his point of perfect observation, the watchtower of the Daily Planet.

This was one of them.

Kal had risen by the time she got there, but then she started brushing off his jacket, saying something that looked like "welcome back." He didn't know what was worse—seeing Kal fumble so painfully through their interaction or her, oblivious to the effect she was having.

But what he hated the most was the little voice in the back of his mind when she reached out, turning down and smoothing Kal's collar, smiling.

_You already had your chance._

**048. Diamond**

The shots came so unexpectedly that, caught in a split second's hesitation, one of the bullets caught him in the chest, bouncing off harmlessly when it encountered the milliskin of his gray suit.

He walked toward the stunned would-be cook immediately in front of him and took his gun.

"Return the jewels and apologize." The thread of steel in his tone came forth unbidden.

"Who are you?" The man dropped the black bag, backing away, fearful.

Kal had no answer for that, so he left, back to work, to what was supposed to be his real job—his real life.

---------------------------

He was about to get out of the chair when Perry, jotting down notes, said very casually, "So she's still wearing it."

He froze mid-air, the article he'd just gotten back wrinkling in his fist. "You noticed."

"Hard not to." Perry put down the pen, steepling his fingers and leveling a hard gaze at him. "I think it's about time you two talked."

"But—"

"Tell it to her, not me." He raised a dismissive hand and went back to his papers. Richard left, alternately fuming and flushing.

And damn it all to hell if Perry wasn't right, as always.

**049. Club**

"—well, _I _heard that he moved out and she's in denial about the whole thing—"

"—I bet he cheated—"

"—how could she let that one go? I'd be happy to take him off her hands—"

"—she still has the ring, maybe they'll reconcile?—"

"—he doesn't look all that broken up about it if you ask me—"

"—and who would ask you? Besides, you're not enough of a ball-buster—"

Jumping up as soon as the clock chimed noon, Kal had never been more relieved to escape to the rooftop.

---------------------------

"Let me guess," he said, seeing the stricken expression on Kal's face. "The water cooler club strikes again?"

"How…?"

"They have that effect on people. Plus, I heard on the grapevine that Lois and I are the flavor of the week. I'm guessing it wasn't just innocent speculation, either."

Kal looked down like he was the guilty party. "I'm afraid not."

"Don't mind them. Come Monday the mill will turn."

"I'll try." But Kal's hand was rigid in his, and Richard resolved that, come hell or high water, he would clear the air.

Because they all deserved better than this.

**050. Spade**

They worked side by side, shaping the foundation, metal persuading the earth into the base of what would be a home. He enjoyed the quiet, the blanket of silence that let the sounds of the ocean soothe and the winds sigh uninterrupted, so rare in Metropolis but in abundance out here at latitude 29, longitude 175.

"You know that you're no better than me," Luthor said, wiping his brow, but it lacked the usual sting.

Kal pushed the shovel into the dirt, and propping his foot up on the metal, he looked at the setting sun, wide open.

"I know."

---------------------------

"Let's just call it what it is, Richard." Her lips thinned. "You want a divorce."

"But we weren't—"

"That's not the point!" She slammed down her planner on the table between them. "That's just a formality."

He threw his hands up. "You're right. That is what I want."

She deflated. There was no defense against the truth.

He proceeded gently, watching closely for a reaction. "I'd like to come by the house soon for some things, if that's okay…"

She nodded. "I'll help."

"Only if that's what you want."

The woman he still loved tried to smile. "It is."


	11. Chapter 11: The Elements

**Note: **I'm not sure what has against me, but I couldn't upload a thing for the longest time. Hopefully now I won't have any more problems? Anyway, I'm going to be playing catch up because I've actually written up to chapter 17 but I'll probably only post here once a day. But chapter 20 will be the last, because then I'll have written for all 100 prompts, so I won't get too far behind on here.**  
**

**051. Water**

"I never imagined what spending twenty four hours a day with myself would be like," Luthor said, staring ahead. His voice was hollow, like it had searched but found no emotions suitable for the sentiment.

Kal tossed a rock from the beach; it skipped twenty times over the temporarily calm sea. "It changes you. Whether you want it to or not."

Luthor looked at Kal in silent observation for quite some time. He was nodding, "Yes. Yes, it does."

Kal's next rock flew off course when Luthor murmured under his breath,

"The question is: for the better or the worse?"

-----------------------

He approached Kal's chair and gave him a leaning over embrace, inhaling deep. "Mmmm, I know that smell."

Kal craned his head and they shared an extended kiss, infused with salt and air and the tinge of new sparks that ignited every time they touched. Richard laughed when he pulled away. "Sorry, didn't mean to get flour in your hair."

Kal shook off like a dog, sending puffs of white up around him, grinning. "You know, maybe I should drop off supplies twice a week. Or three times. To be safe."

Richard leaned in for another kiss, "Three times. Definitely."

**052. Fire**

From the second they'd met, it kindled. He hadn't recognized it at first, nothing he had a frame of reference for, something wholly new that only stoked higher each time they spoke, each time he looked into Richard's eyes. Roaring when their fingers brushed and clouding his vision with a fear so hot it burned away all his sensibilities, he had started to understand.

And here, with their legs twining together like misplaced halves of a whole, mouths seeking and always finding, warmth shared and banishing even the notion of cold, it raged free.

The fire had found its home.

-----------------------

Breathing desperate, he sank further and further into the heat, letting it take him completely, consumed from within. He seized Kal's lips, whispering words of want that his flesh echoed with every movement, the two of them surging and falling in tandem, finding a rhythm older than sentience that hummed to their heartbeats.

The pressure incandesced, flaring along the seams where they touched, driving him to the edge of the oblivion and pulling him back, his body whipcording with the flames, cries only fanning them, until the blaze gradually subsided to white spots in his vision.

Then they slept, interwoven.

**053. Earth**

"_You're not here," Jor-El says, surrounded by corn stalks._

"_Then where am I?" Kal touches the crest burning black into his chest._

"_You're still with us. But we are nothing, now, if you are lost."_

"_But I'm here. Doing what you asked. What more do you want?" The crest singes his skin._

"_A savior cannot help others until he is himself saved, son. Let yourself be saved."_

"_How?"_

_Jor-El's transparent hand rests on the crest. "Two worlds in one body."_ _He grows faint from crystal clarity, voice fading before he disappears._

"_You must never forget you are human, as well."_

-----------------------

He smoothed a finger over Kal's brow, frowning.

"Not here," Kal mumbled, tossing, burrowing his head into Richard's shoulder.

The dreams were only getting worse; some nights Kal even floated in his sleep, thrashing, but somehow being airborne soothed him and he'd sink down without waking.

He brought it up a few times but Kal didn't remember, so he didn't push it.

What Richard didn't talk about was the nightmare that haunted his waking. There were variations on a theme, but they all ended the same: Kal floating in his sleep, up and up, right out of Richard's mortal reach.

**054. Air**

It wasn't precisely moving in, more like slowly diffusing into the space. A notebook here, a t-shirt there, more and more nights shared on the too-small bed that Kal secretly liked because it gave him an excuse to be closer.

Richard didn't say a word about it, but one day Kal went into the closet to find a section neatly cleared out, and he had it filled up in less than week. They went through the rooms one by one until he'd diffused his meager possessions into each.

It wasn't precisely moving in, but it was close enough for him.

-----------------------

"When was the last time you went up?" Kal asked, buttering his toast intently.

"It's been awhile." Richard tipped the pot for the last drop of coffee.

"No time?"

"Not… exactly."

Kal looked at him curiously.

"It's not the same anymore." He admitted. "Since we, you know," he said, waving his knife in the air.

"Well… you've seen me fly, but I haven't seen you. That's not really fair, is it?" Kal folded the bread over and stuffed it into his mouth, waiting for an answer.

Richard hid his grin behind his mug. "I guess you might have a point."

**055. Spirit**

"This is him." He waved his hand over the control panel. "And all the knowledge of Krypton."

"May I?" Richard asked, and Kal stepped to the side with a nod. Richard stepped forward, touching one finger reverently on the translucent edge of crystal, "Wow." He drew it back when the panel started to light up.

"Is it strange, talking to him?"

"It can be. Sometimes I forget that he's not really here." He looked at the panel where Jor-El would appear. "You're sure you want to do this?"

Richard placed a hand over his. "It would be my honor, Kal."

-----------------------

He soon found that his insatiable curiosity overwhelmed any remaining reluctance; he traveled through thousands of years of history and was introduced to a culture that, he was sad to see, was destroyed far before its time. When he surfaced, head spinning and new connections forming, it was getting dark outside.

"Sorry about that," He said to Kal, who was leaning against one of the columns with his arms crossed over his chest, an amused smile on his face.

And to Jor-El, "Thank you so much, sir."

Glancing at Kal, he added with a profound depth of gratitude, "For everything."


	12. Chapter 12: Sustenance

**056. Breakfast**

"Jason'll be here tomorrow," Richard said, flipping the page of his Koontz novel. "You like banana, right? He loves banana pancakes."

"I… uh…" Kal leaped out of the bed, "Excuse me." He went into the bathroom and tossed cold water on his face. "Just tell him," he said to his reflection. "It's better this way."

But the images of Richard's eyes rolling back into his head, his body lying on concrete and grass, were all resting right between Kal's eyebrows.

"Going to the Planet tomorrow," he said, slipping back under the covers and praying Richard would leave it at that.

------------------------------

"Stay for breakfast?" Richard asked, placing a hand on Kal's shoulder.

"I wanted to get in early. Big assignment, and I work better when it's quiet there."

He felt the tension radiation from Kal and moved closer.

"I didn't mean what I said about being uncle Perry," he whispered, touching Kal's hair. "I know I'll never be that as long as you're around."

Kal turned, putting a hand on his face, words strangling. "But don't you see? I'm Jason's Jor-El. I'm no more his father than that computer is mine."

Richard kissed him. "And that's what we're going to change."

**057. Lunch**

_Some compromise_, he thought when it was noon and he still hadn't left for work. They still hadn't eaten, because first they'd needed to buy all the ingredients ("Banana pancakes or bust!" as Richard had cried out) and on the way Jason had determined that the flea market looked interested so that had been a forty-minute detour. Now, in the final stages of pancake-mania, all three of them were peppered in batter and the whole apartment smelled heavenly.

And when they ate, Kal had to admit that it was the best breakfast masquerading as a lunch that he'd ever had.

------------------------------

All morning, Richard had felt as if he'd been coaxing open a flower petal by petal—Kal watched them like a shy observer, hanging back.

As he'd been speaking to Jor-El, he'd been quite aware that he was learning more about Kal and his son.

Someday, he knew, Jason would be ready to go there, to meet his grandfather and what was left of their heritage, just as someday Kal would be ready to take him. A heritage Richard wanted to honor for them both.

But for now, watching them split the last pancake in half, laughing, was just right.

**058. Dinner**

When five-thirty rolled around he gave up on the idea of work, instead focusing on finishing up his part of the dinner. He was no culinary genius, but by the time he'd finished, the salad bowl brimmed with vibrant colors and even smelled as appetizing as it looked.

"Wha's that?" Kal popped the cherry tomato in his fingers when Jason popped up from under the countertop.

"It's for dinner, a nice big salad," he said, tilting the bowl for Jason to see.

"Mommy likes salads," Jason said. "Are we gonna invite her?"

Kal looked to Richard, totally at a loss.

------------------------------

"Not tonight, kiddo," He responded quickly, turning the heat on the mushrooms off and walking over to the counter, wiping his hands on the towel. "But maybe another time. Would you like that, Jason?"

"Yeah," he said, twisting the arm on the action figure he was holding.

"Mr. Kal can come, too, right daddy?"

"Of course he can," he said, rubbing small circles on the tense spot on Kal's back. "I'll talk to mommy about is soon."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Jason nodded, satisfied, wandering off to wreak havoc on the couch pillows, and both he and Kal started to breathe again.

**059. Food**

"You're looking good, son," she said, kissing both his cheeks. "They've been feeding you well in the city, haven't they?"

"You could say that," he chuckled, pulling her into a tight hug.

"What brings you, son?" She asked, ushering him to the couch and bringing over a plate of cookies and a pitcher of iced tea that he wasn't the least bit surprised she had on hand.

"You might want to sit down," he said, taking her hand in his and trying to figure out where to start. "A lot has changed. There's someone… I need to tell you about."

------------------------------

"Dinner? Well, that sounds fine to me," She said, sounding like she was ready to hang up the phone and get back to work.

"Well, yes—" He fidgeted with the salt and pepper shakers, steeling himself for what he knew would never be easy to bring up. "But Jason and I were also hoping we could invite Clark. From work."

"Clark? Why would we invite Clark? Some kind of 'welcome back' thing? Are we going to invite the rest of the office, too?"

"Not exactly," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That's… what I wanted to explain."

**060. Drink**

"Another," he said, pushing the shot glass forward.

"So how'd she take it?"

"Good," he said, tossing back the fiery liquid. "She can't wait to meet him."

"We can take him out there some weekend, soon."

"I'm more worried about how she'll react to…" he gestured, constantly noticing how the English language lacked the vocabulary he needed. "us."

"Ah."

"She'll understand. That's not it. But it's probably not what she expects…"

Richard laughed, knocking back the last of his beer. "We certainly are an unusual pair."

Kal laughed, wiping foam off Richard's lip. "And that's the least of our problems."

------------------------------

Kal gulped down a double shot. "And Lois?"

He cringed, gesturing for a refill.

"That bad?"

"It was ugly." He sighed into the bartop. "She couldn't seem to understand that you have nothing to do with me and her. And that dating you isn't me questioning my sexuality or 'some phase.'"

"Oh."

"She'll come around. I think it'll just take time. And honestly, if it's easier for her to think I was gay along and just hiding it, that's fine. Because we know the truth."

"And what's that?" Kal asked quietly.

He didn't even have to consider.

"I love you."


	13. Chapter 13: Transitions

**061. Winter**

The office chilled to the point of frost whenever Lois walked by his desk or Richard's office; splinters of ice prickled the back of his neck whenever he dared approach Richard.

He started eating lunch with Jimmy in hopes of defusing the situation, wholly unprepared to deal with manner of attack, the tight silences and sidelong glares. More than once he would approach her desk, compelled to offer an apology, but it was like trekking through thigh-high snow and he veered off course every time.

This winter was cold with a bleak outlook, but worst of all, it was unforgiving.

------------------------------

"Can we talk?"

"What more is there to talk about?" The cigarette flared as she inhaled deeply. "We're over. You and Clark are a happy little family. Seems pretty simple to me."

Richard leaned on the ledge, facing her. "It wasn't supposed to happen this way."

The cigarette dangled in her fingers; he could barely hear her above the wind. "There's no easy or fun way to go about stripping a woman of her dignity, Richard."

"I—" He tried to take her hand but she shrunk back. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah." She crushed the cigarette under her heel. "Me too."

**062. Spring**

Weeks that felt like months went by and he started to give up, not even looking up when Lois exited the elevator with Jason.

"Mr. Kal!" Jason cried, running over before she could stop him. "Guess what coach said."

"What?" Kal leaned over and let Jason climb up into his lap, using his tie like a rope.

"He says I throw the best and worst pitches on the team," Jason said, confused but proud.

"Well now," Kal stifled a smile, "I think that's 'cause you're smart."

"Yeah!" Jason scratched his head. "Wait, I am?"

Lois just watched, critical, but curious.

------------------------------

"Of course you are," Kal said, leaning down like he was telling Jason a secret. "You keep the other team on their toes so they never know what to expect. That's pretty darn smart if you ask me."

Richard smiled, falling back; Kal could handle this just fine.

"Will you tell coach that?" Jason asked, tugging on Kal's tie.

"You bet."

"Time to go to Daddy's office, Jason," Lois said, face inscrutable. But just before shutting the door, the line of her shoulders thawed just a bit. She called back, "Tuesday, 7:00PM sharp. Let's see what you're made of, Smallville."

**063. Summer**

"I still can't believe you printed that story," Lois said.

"Hey," Richard said, waving his wine glass unsteadily, "I don't care if that Prince is Perry's personal friend, him mooning the Afghani Ambassador is Pulitzer material if I've ever seen it."

"You didn't?" Kal said, looking back and forth between the giggling and stumbling drunk reporters.

"Oh, he did, and he'll never tell you this, but he bragged about it for weeks until Perry literally stapled a pink slip to his forehead."

"Hurt," Richard complained, rubbing a spot between his eyes.

At that, Kal's laughter would be contained no longer.

------------------------------

"You get stapled and see if you're laughing," He protested, but he grinned from ear to ear.

"I'll be sure to ask Perry first thing tomorrow," Kal said, leaning back into the couch with a chuckle.

"Speaking of which," Lois set her glass down with great care, "I should get going." She stroked Jason's hair softly to wake him.

"I'll call a cab," Kal volunteered, and soon they were down at the curb.

"Thanks," she said, buckling Jason in. "Goodnight."

They shook hands, warm from drink and laughter, and Richard wondered if—hoped—she would give them a next time.

**064. Fall**

The soil of the farm hoarded the rains gladly after the summer draught and took in the leaflitter and debris. The harvest ripened on the stalks, on the vines, heavy, soaking in every last bit of sun the days had to offer and the tree branches stretched high into the crystal darkening skies. The winds blew in the cold from the north, carrying the scent of falling leaves, crisp autumn; it had an undertone like rust, the smell of colors changing. All around them, life settled.

"Now this," Kal said, handing Richard the steaming mug of cocoa. "This is fall."

------------------------------

"It's amazing," he said, watching Jason burst out of a pile of burnt orange and gold.

"The seasons are real, out here," Kal said, taking the next seat and petting his dog on the head affectionately. "Metropolis was such a change."

"I can't imagine growing up here. But Jason's taken to it like a fish to water," Richard observed, watching his son kick up a storm of fiery hues in his play and carefully sipping the beverage. "We should bring him out until your mom's sick of him."

Kal grinned. "I can't think of anything that would make her happier."

**065. Passing**

"Dinner was great, mom," he said, patting his belly.

"It was amazing, Mrs. Kent." Richard said. "And I'd love to get that sweet potato recipe if it's not a family secret."

"I'll write it up for you tonight before you leave," she said with a smile. Kal blinked, distinctly remembering that it _was_ a secret Kent family recipe.

"Oh, let me," he said when Richard started to stack the dishes. Clearing the table before either could protest, he consciously directed his hearing outside as he filled the sink with hot water and soap, doing the dishes the old fashioned way.

------------------------------

"Clark was so lucky to have you and your husband."

"We did our best," she said quietly, "But it wasn't easy for a boy like him. I still worry, more than he wants me to, I know."

"I think I might know how you feel."

"Yes, I think you do." She smiled, pouring three cups of tea. Richard helped her arrange them, putting a little sugar in Kal's without thinking.

Martha watched him, head tilted.

"I was going to tell you to take care of him," she said, smiling a little sadly. "But I can see that you already are."


	14. Chapter 14: Weather

**066. Rain**

The Daily Planet became like a pair of jeans that fit more comfortably with each time one wore them; every day that Kal went in his step became lighter, his smiles easier. The air was fresh, cleansed of the tension that had crackled before. Although there was no warmth yet in the distance between the end of the old relationship and the beginning of the new, Kal now had enough breathing room to jump into his work, undistracted; the words and ideas poured from his fingers at prodigious speeds. Almost like Clark Kent had never really left.

Smiling, he typed.

------------------------------

Leaning on his elbow, he ducked his head around Kal's book and stole another kiss.

"You are astounding," Kal chuckled; it rumbled through both their chests. He adjusted against the couch, squirming in tighter.

"Basically," he grinned, leaning in for another. When he finally came up for air, Kal's eyes were half-mast.

"If I didn't know better I'd say your stamina's better than mine," Kal said, tracing a finger on Richard's lips. "Not to mention your appetite," he rumbled, letting his hand come to rest on the small of Richard's back.

"Unquenchable," Richard whispered before he dove in for more.

**067. Snow**

The dress was not ornate, rather simple in its elegance, perfectly cut, flawless. The wearer had fine bone structure, a pile of dark curls that refused to be contained and a smile that belied the austerity of her white wedding gown, lighting the photo from corner to corner.

"Who's this?" He asked, walking over to where Richard was seated amidst the sprawl of boxes.

"Found the albums?" Richard asked, taking the photos in two fingers.

"No, this was in the papers," Kal said, sitting behind Richard and looping his arms over Richard's shoulders.

"I shouldn't have this, Kal," Richard whispered.

------------------------------

"Why not?"

"This is… this is Mrs. Lane. On her wedding day."

Kal placed a kiss on his ear, holding him closer. "I'll bring in into the office tomorrow, it's no problem. She said to return anything that didn't belong to you."

He turned, resting his forehead against Kal's, warm, solid. "Thank you. I'll be okay, though."

Looking at the dress once more, the past rushed forward but did not overwhelm Kal's touch. "It's just… Lois was going to wear that dress."

He set the photo down. "I guess I'm still getting used to the idea that someday… she will."

**068. Lightening**

"Mr. Kal!" Jason said, giving him a hug and running off to find Richard.

"I'll be back tomorrow morning," Lois said, handing Kal the medication bag and backpack.

"He'll be ready," he said.

"Great," Lois said, starting to turn and then stopping with a strange expression on her face, like a gear had caught mid-turn.

"How long has he been calling you 'Cal,' Clark?"

Kal blinked, "Oh, well, uh—he had a hard time saying Clark, so I told him—"

"Right," she said, nodding to herself. "Of course."

She left so quickly there was a breeze in her wake.

------------------------------

The photo album under his fingers was brimming with what felt like false hopes; the family he'd always dreamed of, the life he'd mapped out in the five first minutes after Lois gave him a breathless 'yes.' But watching Jason and Kal run around the apartment playing guns and robbers, it hit him all at once, like a bolt that shattered all his preconceptions. Four years ago, he never would have pictured himself sitting here, watching the world's greatest hero play with the son they shared.

He was nowhere he thought he'd be, but everywhere that he wanted to be.

**069. Thunder**

Richard slid the files across the desk, frowning, an ominous preface.

Kal opened it to find accounts outlined in police reports and a few blurry photos that were getting closer and closer to definition.

"There's no way I can convince Jimmy this isn't a story now. It's buzzing around all the newsrooms."

He tried to ignore the roaring in his ears, fingers gripping on the arms of the chair. "No," he whispered.

Richard leaned forward, concern in his features. "I'll do what I can. But it's not a matter of if someone reports this, Kal… it's a matter of when."

------------------------------

Richard went to hang his jacket, pausing when it was halfway on the hanger. Squinting, he riffled through the clothes until his hand seized on the empty space where Kal's suit usually hung.

Searching through the boxes, he found it in the very back corner, at the bottom of a stack of plain t-shirts. He ran his fingers over the blue and red fabric, brow knitting in concern—Kal didn't wear it, but with it hanging, at least the option was there. In the open.

He replaced it with a frown, unsure what he could do now other than wait.

**070. Storm**

"Let me take you back!" He cried over the howling winds, hunched over in the primitive mud hut.

Luthor laughed, long and deep like an echo of the keening gusts. "_Now_ you want to take me back?"

"I can protect you." He took Luthor's arm but the man made no move to accompany him.

"Wrong answer, my little extraterrestrial superintendent," Luthor said, grinning. "I'm fine just where I am, thank you very much."

"You could die," Kal said, but he dropped his arm.

"And that would be different from prison… how?"

He smiled. "At least here I can live, too."

------------------------------

"Night Daddy," Jason said, and there was a rustle as he handed the phone to Lois.

"Tomorrow at five?"

"Sounds great."

"I was also thinking…" He pictured her twisting the phone cord around her finger, "After we're settled into our new place, and all that—we should talk about joint custody."

He released a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding since they'd separated.

"I would love to."

"Great, sometime next week then. Goodnight, Richard."

"Night, Lois. And thank you."

He walked onto the porch barefoot, laughing, throwing his arms wide to the night, unafraid.

The storm had passed.


	15. Chapter 15: States and Illumination

**071. Broken**

"Back at square one," Luthor said, nonchalantly pulling his hands out against the handcuffs. "You've got me just where you always wanted me."

"You'll be safer here."

Luthor's lips quirked and he spoke as if to a child. "If that'll make you sleep better at night."

"Knowing that you're not a danger to society anymore?" Grim satisfaction crept into his voice. "You bet I will."

"At what cost?" Before Kal's eyes, the façade fell, and the man behind the mask appeared. Luthor's eyes went blank but his voice trembled, all bravado and bluster drained to stark fear. "They'll break me."

------------------------------

"Daddy," Jason twirled the crayon in his fingers. "I don't like Harry. Can I go to a different pre-school?"

"Did Harry do something to you, kiddo?" He asked, trying to keep his voice light, but his right hand balled into a fist under the desk.

Jason shrugged.

"You can tell me," Richard coaxed.

The crayon slowed. "He says I'm not like everyone else. That I'm all messed up." He visibly fought the tremble in his chin.

"Son," he came around the desk, taking Jason into his arms, hugging him tight. "Daddy's going to take care of this. Don't you worry."

**072. Fixed**

"They'll need a testimony," Bruce said, pouring cream into his coffee. "He might not even go to trial without one." Bruce didn't have to elaborate about whose testimony they would need.

"They're still bringing up the charges. I'll deal with that when it's time," Kal said, flipping through the menu.

"Which one of you?" A sardonic eyebrow arched.

Kal narrowed his eyes. "He won't be released on my account."

"No need to get defensive, my friend. Just an innocent question."

Kal raised a matching eyebrow. "As if you know the meaning of that term."

Bruce laughed, low and silky. "Touché."

------------------------------

"He's wrong, you hear me?" Richard brought Jason over to the couch and seated him in his lap. "There's nothing messed up about you." He tweaked his finger on Jason's nose. "In fact, you're hands-down the coolest kid I know."

Jason tried to smile and Richard put an arm around his shoulder. "What else did he say?"

Jason bit his lip. "That if I was normal the doctors could fix me."

"Well, that's where he's wrong, again. The doctors don't need to fix a single thing about you, kiddo." He kissed Jason's forehead. "You're perfect just the way you are."

**073. Light**

"Some new evidence has…" Bruce waved his hand, "presented itself. The man will be pinned in under a week."

"I'm impressed," Kal said, making appreciative noises as he tried the asparagus in white sauce.

"And to think he was under our noses all this time. No accountability, operating like that." Bruce sliced his filet in one clean cut. "Or so I've observed."

"Not everything can survive in the light of day," Kal said. Talking with his friend was like dancing blindfolded—Bruce always led.

"True." He took a slow sip of wine, "But some things need to, don't you think?"

------------------------------

"Daddy," Jason protested, squirming. "You sound just like Mommy."

"Well, we can't both be wrong, can we?"

Jason considered. "Maybe."

"And I know that Kal agrees with us, too. _And_ uncle Perry."

Jason kicked his feet. "Really?"

"You bet, kiddo. And we're all grown ups. That means we're pretty smart."

"My teacher told me you and mommy are smart. She read one of mommy's articles in class once."

"See? Now who are you going to believe, some kid who can't even spell his own name or us?"

Jason smiled. "You."

Richard smiled back, relieved to see the light had returned.

**074. Dark**

"Still slinking around in the dark, my friend?" Bruce steepled his fingers, leaning back in the chair. "Last time I checked, that was my job."

"It's not—" Kal sighed, unable to escape the intensity of those green eyes. "It's not what you think."

"Oh?"

"At first it was—it was just all wrong. But now…" he twisted his napkin in his hands. "Now it's not just me I'm thinking about."

"Richard?"

"And…" his voice dropped. "My son, Bruce."

He was quiet for quite some time, so still he didn't even seem to blink. "Well. That certainly does change things."

------------------------------

"I'll ask Harry if he can apologize," Mrs. Kaplan's voice was weary.

"But surely you realize this is unacceptable behavior?" Richard said between clenched teeth.

"You want the truth, Mr. White?" Suddenly her voice was laced with acidity; Richard saw where Harry got it. "The sooner your kid is out of the dark, the better. He's gonna realize sometime this world ain't a nice place. You ask me, my son did him a favor."

"I didn't."

Richard hung up on her and threw the phone into the wall.

He used the desk phone to call the school about transferring Jason.

**075. Shade**

"Your son needs you back just as much as the rest of the world," Bruce said, leaning forward. His voice deeper; Kal recognized the shift. "That's the difference between us and them, Clark. They _have_ to slink in the shadows. But we live with honor. We can be proud of what we do."

"Not if what we do puts those we love in danger."

Bruce's eyes burned. "There is more danger in becoming like them." He put a hand on Kal's shoulder, grim. "Rest in the shadows as long as you need, friend. Just be sure you come out again."

------------------------------

A pallor hung in the car; it swallowed their attempts at small talk and followed them into the apartment, solidified as they unpacked their briefcases. Richard was mired in it, unable to surface to tell Kal about the worries that were gnawing his gut, and he certainly couldn't talk to Lois. Not about this—too much she didn't know.

So when Kal quietly said that he wanted to spend tonight at the Fortress, Richard didn't question or argue, just nodded, wished him a safe trip.

He went to bed at nine, but didn't sleep until six, tossing the whole time.


	16. Chapter 16: Questions

**Author's Notes: **This particular set was challenging for me because there were a lot of things I was picturing here, but some of them, I had trouble getting down in words. So I apologize if there's any bits that aren't clear; I did do some editing since posting this originally in my LJ to try and fix it up, but this is probably an instance when my self-imposed 200-word-per-prompt limitation was not very helpful, heh.

Also, many thanks to Saavikam for the wonderful reviews:-) And to everyone else who's stuck with this story so long. Four more chapters to post after this one and then it will be complete.

**076. Who?**

"So where were you all that time?" Jimmy asked, squirting more ketchup onto his fries.

"Oh, you know." Kal shrugged. "Here and there."

"Oh-ho," Jimmy said, waggling an eyebrow. "Clark Kent, man of mystery."

"You could say that."

"So is that even your real name, or is it just a clever disguise you came up with to hide your real identity?"

Kal said, laughing uncomfortably. "Clark Kent is just your average reporter, Jimmy, nothing more."

Jimmy smiled broadly. "Now that's where you're wrong. You, Clark, are my personal hero." He proffered his fork in Kal's direction. "Nothing average about that."

------------------------------

"Bruce—Clark's friend, right?"

"The very same."

"Please, call me Richard."

"Richard—a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I was calling precisely because I was hoping to make it in person. I was wondering if you, Kal and Jason could attend a small gathering I'm having next week."

"So you want to see me for yourself?"

The laughter was smooth and low. "Something like that."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"I'll look forward to it."

"I don't doubt it. Until then."

"Until then, Richard."

Richard spent the rest of the day trying to place that teasingly familiar voice.

**077. What?**

"Your… _what_?"

"I guess it's time to 'fess up, huh?" Jimmy laughed a little, took a deep breath. "Well, you see, Clark, if it weren't for you—I wouldn't be here. I'd probably still be working for my old man. But one day I picked up a paper and read one of your articles. Seeing you, coming to Metropolis from Smallville and getting to where you are today… well. It made me think that maybe a kid like me could do it, too. I owe it all to you, Mr. Clark." Jimmy smiled shyly. "That's what makes you my hero."

------------------------------

_4:30, 592 Wilson Blvd., room 18. Bring the camera and telescopic lens. Don't be late._

_Love,_

_Kal_

Richard slipped the note back into his pocket and looked through the window as instructed, keeping the camera poised against the glass through the blinds.

"So what am I here for?" he whispered, checking his watch. Four thirty-two and counting. The men at the docks below looked suspicious, but nothing yet worth photographing. And wouldn't it be a job for the police if they were doing something illegal?

But when crimson and blue flashed onto the scene, he stopped thinking and started shooting.

**078. Where?**

"Where did this sudden impulse come from?" Richard asked, winding his fingers through Kal's and holding up the roll of film.

"You could say that a friend returned a favor," He said, grinning lopsidedly and taking the roll. "We'll see how they turned out tomorrow morning?"

"I'll turn them in first thing."

"But before that, there's... there's someone else I need to tell first."

Richard nodded, giving him a quick kiss. "I'll tell her to be up here after work."

"Thank you." He breathed, leaning their foreheads together. "For everything."

"My pleasure, Kal." He gave Kal a grin-kiss. "My pleasure."

------------------------------

"The rooftop."

"No," she whispered, dropping the files to the floor. "You're joking. And it sure as hell isn't funny, Richard." Her lips thinned into a line so tight that she looked as if she'd break.

"Lois," he crouched down and took her resistant hand, "You know I wouldn't joke about this."

She closed her eyes, gripping him iron-tight. "I know." She opened them again, barely restraining tears. "How long, Richard?"

He looked away. "Almost since he came back." She jerked her hand away, trembling in her lap.

"Why should I go?"

Richard hated saying it. "He still needs you."

**079. When?**

She walked onto the roof with a peculiar calm, reached the ledge and reached into her purse, holding out a pack of cigarettes and then dropped them over the edge.

Kal's heat vision caught them before they fell even an inch, and he inhaled deeply. When he exhaled, only clean air left his lips.

"So when were you planning on telling me?" She asked, fingers twisting the strap of her purse viciously. "When I finally decided to trust you enough that you could really twist the knife?"

Kal clenched his jaw, hardly able to speak. "I didn't plan this, Lois."

------------------------------

Jason's brow wrinkled in his sleep and Richard smoothed a hand over it, whispering comforting nothings. The fever had struck hard and fast, knocking Jason out as soon as he'd walked into the apartment. He stopped breathing when Jason began to stir.

"Daddy?"

"Yeah, kiddo?"

"Why you up there?"

"Now that's a good question." Richard settled in beside him, holding Jason fast.

"Better," he mumbled, falling asleep again instantly.

"Yeah," Richard agreed, lovingly tucking back a piece of hair. He hugged Jason close to ward off the future.

How soon before Jason would need more care than he could give?

**080. Why?**

"And I always thought you had a way with words, Clark. Or don't I get the privilege of calling you Kal?" She laughed mirthlessly.

"This wasn't… I wasn't…"

"Weren't what? Being honest?" She laughed, bitter. "You got that right."

Kal's mouth worked, but he raised his hand to forestall her next volley. "You really want to know why?"

"Yes," she said quietly.

"This. It's not really… talking."

She started and stopped, finally crossing her arms, speechless.

His face held all his pain. "I tried. But you knew Superman… loved him. Not me. And I wasn't ready for this, for us."

------------------------------

Richard recognized her distinctive lettering and went to shut the blinds, sitting at his desk and staring at it quietly for a few minutes before opening it. The envelope came open easily under his ministrations, and he held the single piece of paper between his fingers for a long time, contemplating the three potent words.

_Now I understand._

But what he didn't touch was the message, and he only discovered it by accident when he was looking for more, looking for an explanation. It was deceptively light and beautiful in his hand to be bearing such heart-rending connection.

Her ring.


	17. Chapter 17: Connectors

**081. How?**

"You doing okay?" Richard asked, putting the car into gear.

He shifted in his seat; in a way, he'd been relieved that Richard had been asleep when he'd gotten in last night, because even such a seemingly simple question was beyond him right now.

"She told me we had nothing more to discuss and left."

"Like clockwork," Richard said, wry. "But that's a good thing."

"Good?" He failed to see how.

"Yeah. She's retreating, to re-group. When she feels stronger, well… then she'll come back for round two."

Kal winced. "Do I want to know?"

"You'll see, and probably soon."

------------------------------

"—where's has he been all this time, Suzanne? That's what—"

"—am going to be sleeping better tonight knowing—"

"—folks, make no mistake, he's just as hard on crime—"

"Ma'am, your opinions on Superman's return?"

The woman sidled up to it, practically purring. "Bill, all I want to know is how he gets that gorgeous bod into that tight little suit."

Richard clicked off the TV with a glare.

Getting Jason into bed, he kissed him on the forehead, whispering, "Superman's back, huh, kiddo?"

Jason blinked, mumbling sleepily, "But his name's Kal, daddy. Not Superman."

**082. If**

"Don't hover there all night," She snapped.

"I didn't want to—"

"I know." She chewed fiercely on a piece of gum. "But it's all in the name of justice, right?"

He landed softly. "This is in the name of friendship."

"What if I still wanted more?" She whirled on him, "What if _I _wanted a fucking family? Don't I deserve that?"

"And more," he whispered.

"So why can't I have it?" She said, broken.

"You can," he said, no longer the young man who once wanted to be her everything, "But I can't—never could—give it to you."

------------------------------

Richard checked the directions and his watch again—twenty minutes later than he'd planned. It didn't make any sense—with this kind of security, how could they have paperwork mix ups like this? He'd be running around the city all night, at this rate.

He showed them his press pass and the stack of appropriate triplicate forms, but once again, he was turned away.

"Sorry, sir. He's being held at Maritime."

"I just came from there," he said, an ugly feeling starting to gnaw at his gut. "If he's not there, and he's not here, where the hell is he?"

**083. And**

"The saddest thing? I can't blame him. I know exactly how he feels. And I can't blame you, not for this, anyway, because I know exactly how you feel." She paused, smiling wryly. "I tried playing the blame game with Theresa—she wasn't having any of it.

"She told me once that ninety percent of our minds are unconscious. I think that's why I was so mad when I found out about Richard dating. Because I knew." She twisted her fingers, voice hollow. "The two of you work better together than you and I or Richard and I ever did."

------------------------------

"And what? You go check again, because if you don't, I'll have your head on a platter, you hear me?" Richard winced at how much he sounded like Perry.

He tapped the pen nervously on the desk while he waited for the man to get back on the line, running the possibilities through his mind and doing his best to discard them because they were all very grim.

"Sorry, sir. We do not have him in our custody at this time."

"You're absolutely certain?"

"One hundred percent."

Richard sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Get me your supervisor. Now."

**084. He**

"I don't deserve either of you," He said, wincing. "Or Jason."

"Ah, Jason." She smiled, maternal light softening in her features. "The one thing that keeps me going is that this is what I've wanted for him, since the day he was born. Maybe not quite the way I thought it would play out, but he's got the family he needs now."

"He's amazing. If there's anything I can ever do for him…"

"Be there."

All Kal could do was nod. But when she said _he's yours_ before shutting the door behind her, he knew she wasn't talking about Jason.

------------------------------

He flinched at the sound of the door opening, secretly hoping it wasn't Kal, but he recognized the familiar tread and went into the living room, taking one last sip of wine to fortify himself.

"What's wrong?" Kal immediately asked, his keen vision probably picking out every line of tension on Richard's face. He dropped his coat and came forward, reaching out.

Richard took Kal's hands in his, bringing them to sit at the couch. He sought words that would make the blow less harsh; there were none.

"I'm so sorry. We don't know when or how, but Luthor's escaped."

**085. She**

He stared at the ceiling, unable to put his mind to rest.

"Still awake?" Richard whispered, putting a hand on his chest.

"I want to go out and _do_ something, find him—I mean, he could get Jason—"

"When there are any leads you'll be the first to know."

"But maybe not soon enough—"

Richard took Kal's hand, pressing a kiss into his cheek. "She can take care of herself, Kal."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"We've got Jason in the next room: he's safe." He smiled. "Besides… I already asked the police to watch Lois."

------------------------------

"She'll kill you," Kal laughed, visibly relaxing.

"That may be the case, but she'd have to answer to Perry, and even she can't replace his favorite good for nothing nephew."

"Thank you," Kal said, slinking an arm around him. "You always make it so easy for me."

Richard shrugged, slipping his leg through Kal's. "We are on the same team, you know."

"I'll have to keep that in mind in the future," Kal said, coming close enough so that their noses brushed.

"You do that."

And then Richard showed Kal exactly what it meant to be on the same team.


	18. Chapter 18: Day to Day

**086. Choices**

"Jason, sweetie, go get your stuff." She gave Kal a tight smile, tapping her fingers nervously at her side.

He didn't have to stare to see the quick glances, the way her lips twitched as if she wanted to speak but didn't know where to start. He could make up an excuse about going to help Jason, but instead, he straightened, plunging ahead.

"Would you like to do an interview sometime?" He put his hands out quickly, "Only if you want, I mean."

She relaxed fractionally, eyes sparking. "Exclusive?"

He smiled. "Of course."

She smiled back. "I'll think about it."

------------------------------

"I'm happy for you, boy," Perry said, slapping him hard enough to tip his balance.

"Thanks. So did you want me to take that draft or…?"

Perry continued on as if Richard hadn't spoken. "Clark's a good fellow. And it looks like Lois is finally coming around, eh?"

Richard shrugged. "It's not easy, but we're managing."

Perry leaned a little closer, dropping his voice. "If you three need some space, just say the word. Assignments can be juggled. Three wives later, trust me, I understand."

"Thanks for the offer, Perry. I appreciate it. But… I don't think that'll be necessary."

**087. Life**

A typical Saturday.

They woke up at ten a.m., out of bed around eleven-thirty, pajamas disheveled and with two competing cases of bedhead that they documented with Richard's favorite new toy, a Sony Rebel digital camera. Over breakfast a pancake fight erupted and by the time Richard cleaned Kal up, he was sick to his stomach with batter.

To settle his stomach, he popped in _Night of the Living Dead_ and hardly watched a minute because Kal's toes wouldn't behave and it was awfully hard to focus with the apartment overpowered by the aroma of cookies baking.

The cookies and the DVD did the trick, and while Kal made his rounds, Richard worked on dinner, and they washed from head to toe before eating, lingering and using up all the hot water, but it would be worth the surcharge and then some.

They read in bed, two Stephen King novels that Richard swore were _the best_; Kal was still skeptical but gave it a shot anyway. He pronounced it too gory for his taste and set to distracting Richard from his reading; Richard put up a good fight, but in the end, gracefully surrendered.

With Kal, there was no losing.

**088. School**

"Jason!" He hollered, grabbing the paper bag off the seat, but Jason was inside. Stomach churning, he followed.

"Jason's lunch," he explained to the teacher, glancing at his son, already playing outside.

"I'll be sure he gets it, Mr…?"

"Kent. Clark Kent."

"Mr. Kent! Oh, I've heard so much about you."

"Um," He flushed, shrugging, "Well, I'm no one special."

She came around the desk, evaluating him thoughtfully. "I've seen a real improvement in Jason these past few months. Amazing, really. I suspect you might be a little more special than you think." She looked outside, smiling. "Just like him."

------------------------------

"Ten years," he groaned, "I cannot believe it."

"What?"

"My college reunion. So much has happened since the last one… it'll be interesting, at the very least." He handed the invitation to Kal who was standing behind him, undoing his tie and loosening the top buttons of his shirt.

"'Open bar and DJ playing all night.' Sounds like a winning combination."

Richard turned, putting his hands on Kal's waist. "Would you care to be my escort, Mr. Kent? I promise I won't flaunt you too much."

Kal pulled Richard against him, grinning. "Just try and keep me away, Mr. White."

**089. Work**

Perched on the tree and dressed all in black, he looked as suspicious as the man he was watching, one Oliver Andrews. Only the pale angles of his face showed in the moonless dark behind the curtain of his hair.

When went Andrews to pick up the phone he narrowed in on the man's voice, listening more closely.

"Angela, baby, don't be like that, of course I was gonna call you—"

Frowning, he tuned out, making another round of the neighborhood, but it was as before: suburban, quiet, harmless.

Nothing here. He checked his watch.

On to the next.

------------------------------

The alarm buzzed; he took the file from the top, reading out the information in a slow cadence.

"Dennis 'Adonis' Phillips, 576 Yerba Buena, apartment 22. They ran some petty schemes ten years ago, never caught or proven guilty, but definitely seen together. The cops've been watching this guy for years. Mostly a thief with a few charges of assault."

Back to the computer to research the next one on the stack. He'd called in so many favors that he was three overextended to get ahold of these, but it didn't matter.

Catching Luthor would be more than worth it.

**090. Home**

The stars dropped while the clouds faded. Kal put his arm around Martha's shoulders and they talked about the first snow, how it was coming heavy in the air. Richard and Lois nervously supervised Jason's attempts to play ball with Shelby, twice his size and a very enthusiastic thirteen.

They ate dinner around the fire, Martha graciously foregoing the china in favor of paper plates and picnic-style marshmallow roasting. Jason entertained them all with stories of school, dragons, and monsters and when the fire sank lower, Richard told a ghost story that kept Jason up an hour past his bedtime.

He finally slept in front of the fire, curled up with Shelby. Richard and Kal sipped their cocoa, talking in low voices; Martha and Lois had tea on the porch, counting the shooting stars and getting to know each other through Jason. When the full moon rose, they all watched it hang high in the sky, fingers clasped tightly around their mugs and breath coming out in expansive puffs, a sense of winter wonder.

They retired with contented yawns, Jason protesting that he wasn't sleepy in Lois's arms, hugs exchanged, and soon enough, they all slept, at peace, at home.


	19. Chapter 19: Marked Days

**091. Birthday**

"Happy birthday to me."

He slid the key into the ornate fitting, gold on gold, and lifted the top of the trunk very gently when it was freed.

Laying out an assortment of objects on the floor, he placed each one with great care, smoothing his fingers over the thick fabric he'd wrapped them all in. The black velvet sighed under his fingertips.

"Happy birthday to me."

He went through them one by one, sorting and re-familiarizing himself with the curves of steel and the barrels of the guns; other mementos were mixed in with the weapons, a juxtaposition that didn't seem to strike him as strange.

"Happy birthday dear Lex."

Unwrapping what he had saved for last, his eyes lit up, two fingers under the front and two under the back to hold his prize steady. He sat with it, testing its heft, thrust, cocking his ear to the side to listen to how it sliced the air. Finally, he drew the sharpness along his palm and smiling more broadly with every drop of blood that he called forth, he sang the last words of the song with a cracking madness that poisoned the tune.

"Happy birthday to me."

**092. Christmas**

He slid the top off, peeling back the tissue paper patiently until the gift was completely unwrapped, and still, he could not believe it.

Grasping the soft leather in both hands, he held the jacket aloft, laying it in his lap and running his fingers over every detail and stitch like he expected it to disappear any second and wanted to make sure he knew every inch.

He looked at Richard, throat closed and heart open, unable to speak.

"Try it on," Richard beamed, "I think you're just the right height."

And he was right. It was a perfect fit.

------------------------------

"Wow," he said, eyes widening as he examined the watch. "This is incredible, Kal. Your taste is exquisite. This is even nicer than what Perry has."

They shared a laugh, imagining Perry's indignation at being shown up.

He hugged Kal, smile threatening to overflow, kissed him thoroughly. "Thank you so much for this. It's beautiful."

"I got it the same day I wrote you my résumé." Kal traced a finger over Richard's wrist, looking shy. "There's more… inside the band."

He turned the watch and saw an engraving, breath catching when he read it.

_To my unsung hero: Jason's father._

**093. Thanksgiving**

The lights sparkled on their bodies, glowing from the tree and casting warm shadows throughout the room, crinkling like the wrapping paper that was crushed under their embrace. The scent of pine wafted up and Kal laughed, picking the needles from his back; Richard promised in a low voice that he'd kiss all the hurt better. The fire driving the cold from the apartment didn't even come close to the heat that was generated when their gazes locked, fingers wove, and lips met. They drank from each other like men who had forgotten the taste of water, a rising tide.

In their motions they whispered the sentiments that were too large for human language, that got lost in translation. Here, skin to skin, palm to palm, heart to heart, all was understood, all was forgiven, and all was accepted. Riding the cresting wave, they held tight, crying out when it overtook them, and coming up on shore, they laughed, giddy and trembling.

"I love you," Kal said, running his thumb over Richard's cheek.

Richard kissed the space between his thumb and first finger. "And I love you."

"C'mere," Kal whispered, and Richard did.

Christmas morning found them under the tree.

**094. Independence**

_Dearest Kal-El of Krypton,_

_It should come as no surprise that I'm tracking you. What better do I have to do with every Tom, Dick and Harry out there on my trail? But, soon, my friend, you will pay. They might be calling you a hero now, but they'll see the truth eventually, too._

_You can't give a man freedom, Superman, and expect him to give it up so easily. As alien as you are, you should understand that._

_Watch for me. I'll be watching for you._

_Love,_

_Lex_

_P.S. Cute boy._

Kal's scream shook the building to its foundation.

------------------------------

"They're doubling patrols to find him, but that's all they can do," he said, but the notion didn't give either of them much comfort. "But Jason's smart; he'll understand when we tell him what he has to do. We'll stick to him like glue and I'm going to have someone tutor him in my office until we can figure out something better."

He ran out of steam; the words were just his balm to smooth down panic, which edged in despite the effort, and Kal wordlessly took his hand.

"We'll get him," he said, eyes hard, "One way or another."

**095. New Year**

"Still no word?" Bruce said, sipping his drink and looking out over the crowd in his ballroom.

"No," Kal said, hoisting Jason higher on his waist and sighing, "He knew we were going to look harder and I'm guessing that he's taken every precaution."

"I can call in a few favors," Bruce replied nonchalantly, but his level gaze told Kal exactly what sort of favors. "If that would be of some assistance to you."

Kal inclined his head. "I'd really appreciate it. I'll try anything, at this point."

Bruce held up his glass as if to toast. "Consider it done."

------------------------------

"Ten…"

Richard counted, neck tightening when a man brushed past him.

"Nine…"

Richard didn't recognize him, turning around on instinct; the stranger drew something out of his pocket.

"Eight…"

The man looked at him with a frightening smiling, putting a finger to his lips like the two of them were in on a secret, slipping a green blade from a black case.

"Seven…"

He didn't understand.

"Six…"

But then the hand reared back to stab Kal in the back.

"Five…"

He reacted all at once, reaching, grabbing—

"Four…"

Fighting,shoving—

"Three…"

Pain, sharp, burning—

"Two…"

Blackness.

"ONE! Happy New Year!"


	20. Chapter 20: Epilogue

**Author's Note: **These last five challenges were **writer's choice**, so the prompts are all of my own choosing. :) It's been a really fun ride and thanks so much to everyone who's gone on it with me! I can honestly say that this is one of the most inspired pieces of work I've done (just speaking in terms of how much I wanted to write it, not necessarily the result, hehe). I can't say how much I've appreciated all the amazing feedback and support, especially when I know that slash isn't the most subgenre for this particular film.

**Thank you, thank you, thank you** to everyone who's left comments, read, etc. etc. It has really meant a lot to me :)

(Oh, there also may be an addendum chapter after this that includes all the drabbles that didn't fit the prompts/fill in some missing bits of the story, etc. In case anyone was curious :)

* * *

**096. Aftermath**

"They've got him on full lock-down. Two of my men are there twenty-four seven and will be reporting to me. They've also arrested the mask-maker, the manufacturer of the neuro-toxin, and a host of other accomplices. He was sloppy—didn't seem to care about covering up his tracks except to get close to you."

Bruce laced his fingers together, resting his hands on the dark mahogany desk, tone laced with command. "Don't try to see him. He's just been raving like a lunatic, anyway. They don't care how much you patrol the place—in fact, they'll probably feel safer if you do—but those two broken arms and four fractured ribs have pretty much taken away your visitation rights. We'll all testify at his trial, of course, which Perry and I are expediting as we speak."

Kal clenched and unclenched his fists. "I'll stay away," he finally conceded; looking up, his eyes burned like blue specters. "Now tell me the bad news."

"Well," Bruce said, rubbing a finger on his forehead, "First off, please do _not_ mention to Dr. Roberts that you sucked some of the toxin out of the wound, otherwise you'll get a blistering lecture." They shared a strained laugh that they both desperately needed right now. "Also, they've collected all the data they can from the knife and they'll be launching it into space very soon; if all goes as planned, it will be burning up in the sun within a week."

Bruce came around the desk and sat next to Kal, talking quietly. "Roberts can't determine if there will be permanent damage or not, or when Richard will wake up. Make no mistake about it—he was very, very lucky. If the stab wound had been a bit deeper, or if you hadn't gotten him care so fast, he would be—in critical condition." Kal's face blanched at the odd pause but he did not comment.

"His body is fighting it, hard. Plus, he's got the best care, and he's young, healthy. He's got a lot of reasons to live. Roberts is confident that he'll pull out of it."

"Can you get me copies of all the information we have on this toxin and all of Richard's latest read ups?"

"Absolutely. They haven't narrowed down what this toxin is yet; if you can provide any tips in that direction it would be extremely helpful for his treatment."

Kal nodded, "I'm going to the Fortress right now."

"Great."

Bruce hesitated for a second, and then reached out, gripped his hand on Kal's shoulder. "When he wakes up he's going to need help. Even with a full recovery chances are he'll have months of muscle therapy." He forced eye contact, not letting Kal look away from the truth. "He's going to need you."

"What he needs," Kal said, dangerously soft, jerking his arm away, "is a normal life. And I'm going to do everything I can to make sure he gets it."

"Kal, there's—"

"No!" He said, surging up, pacing the room, fists clenching hard at his sides. "Let me guess—you're going to tell me that life is full of dangers and that he could die getting hit by a bus or a his plane could crash or any number of other things, right?"

Bruce stood and leaned back against his desk. "There is that, yes."

"The point that I take away from that is there's no reason I should be in his life. There's enough danger out there. I'm only adding to it."

Bruce looked pained, like he didn't want to say the words but knew he must. "He's already been marked, Kal. Jason was marked from birth by his genes, just like you were. Neither of you had a choice in the matter. But Richard knew what he was getting into. He's an adult and if I know you, you warned him more than once, didn't you?"

Kal said nothing, crossing his arms, jaw tightening.

"The best way to protect them is to stay, Kal."

"That's where we disagree, Bruce."

"At least talk to them before you do anything rash."

Kal softened. "That's all I can promise."

Bruce smiled sadly. "That's all I'm asking."

**097. Searching**

Kal quickly found that one of the largest oversights in the Kryptonian knowledge base was the human race. There was plenty on the star system, on the planet itself, but very little about the species that inhabited it.

He fed in textbook after textbook; the current readouts from Dr. Roberts useless without a starting point. He got a complete analysis of the toxin's composition and properties but nothing on how to counteract it.

He sighed, looking over the data which, after all these hours, was starting to make some kind of strange sense. At least it was a starting point.

**098. Commitment**

"How is he?"

"The same," he said, tearing his eyes away from Richard's prone form. "And you?"

She bit her lip, entranced as he had been by the vision of helplessness before them. "Getting through it. Jason's outside," she said, taking a shaky breath, "But I had to come in and see for myself first."

Kal rose, the first time his body had moved in ten hours.

"Here, let's cover up the I.V. with the blanket. I talked to the nurse earlier and she said it would be fine."

They worked in silence, carefully adjusting the fabric, as much to comfort themselves as Jason.

"I'm sorry," Kal whispered, chest tightening when they were done. Richard, skin pallid and chest barely moving, seemed so far beyond their reach.

"Sorry?" She shook her head, genuinely confused. "But you saved him."

"But if it weren't for me, he wouldn't have needed saving."

And to both their surprises, she smiled. "You really think that? You think that you're the reason Richard is a hero?" She came around the bed and sat down, staring at Richard with a faraway look in her eyes. "That's like blaming Martha for every life-threatening situation that you get into. Unfortunately, heroes are born, not made." Her smile broke, shattering into tears. "He rescued me when I needed it. When I was lost, alone, no one to turn to. That's what he does for the people he loves."

The fist in his chest gripped harder. "I can't let him. Not for me."

She finally looked at him, eyes blazing behind the tears. "He made a choice, Kal, when he stepped in front of that knife. Don't you dare take that away from him."

Then she rose, left from the room, choking back sobs that echoed long after she was gone.

**099. Destruction**

It started so subtly he didn't even realize what was happening; but as the days wore on, and nothing produced results—from the Fortress, from the doctors, from talking to Richard or telling him stories or ordering him to wake up—he started to crack. He snapped at the nurses, grilled Dr. Roberts and pounded his fists into the crystal walls of the Fortress like he could get answers if he just pushed hard enough.

The fracture lines were old; they'd started with the vision of destruction, a graveyard that would remain preserved in space for as long as rock lived. The cracks formed so fast and strong that they threatened to break him, to split him down the middle.

He came within a hairsbreadth of hurtling the craft at the remains of his secret hope; it was only reasonable that he should join this graveyard, float until he had nothing left, burn up in a final blaze as he entered the sun, his final remembrance of the dead.

Something had stopped him, some tenuous string pulled him back here. He was human enough that even in the darkness of space, a small light of hope still burned.

But with each of Richard's monotonous breaths, each time Roberts cut his statistics down, each time Lois or Bruce tried to offer him empty comforts, each time Jason asked why his daddy wouldn't wake up—it dimmed, and the fractures, like festering wounds, opened.

He stood, cupped Richard's face in trembling hands, and leaned in for a feather soft kiss. His eyes brimmed with tears he couldn't shed, wouldn't, not yet, not here.

Richard did not stir; Kal fell back into the chair, taking the lifeless hand in his own, holding to it like his last lifeline in a sea of agony.

**100. Rebirth**

"I'll do anything," he said, voice quiet from disuse, but each word fell out like a drop of blood, "I'll do anything, Richard."

He looked at the monitor with the vital signs that were anything but, and moved from the chair to sit in the bed, putting his head in Richard's lap. "Anything you want." The wounds opened full and he curled in, wracked with a future that he couldn't face. "Please… just don't leave me."

Eyes closing, he began to fall asleep, cradled by last comfort he had left.

"Anything?" The voice in his dream was barely above a choked whisper.

He blinked when he felt the cold fingers twitch in his, instantly awake. Straightening up with a sense of fear that this really was all a dream, he looked with the expectation of disappointment, but there was Richard, his eyes bloodshot but open, lips cracked but pulled up into a smile.

"Anything," Kal said, coming apart. He fell into a million pieces under Richard's tender gaze.

"Don't leave us," Richard rasped, holding Kal's hand tighter.

"I—" But as the last pieces fell, Kal's resistance fell with them. Somehow, he knew, when Richard woke up again, he would be able to start putting all the pieces back together. Probably better than before.

"Okay," he said slowly, making no effort to wipe away the tears of relief that streamed down his face. "But it won't be easy."

Richard's smile bloomed fully, lighting up every corner of the room, of the dark places Kal thought he could hide. Right then and there, despite the ravage to his body, he was the most beautiful thing Kal had ever seen.

He brought Kal's hand to his lips, planting a seed of promise on it with his kiss.

"Nothing worth it ever is."


End file.
